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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162083">One For All</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Introvert78/pseuds/Anonymous_Introvert78'>Anonymous_Introvert78</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Requests [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Manager, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Burns, Choking, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Here we go, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, LET'S GET IT, Lee Taeyong-centric, Physical Abuse, Poisoning, Protective Dongsaengs, Protective Hyungs, internal bleeding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:13:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Introvert78/pseuds/Anonymous_Introvert78</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“He choked me.” As if it wasn’t obvious by now. “Then he threw me on the ground and kicked me. And when he tried to pull me up, I freaked out and I told him to let go and he did … but I fell and I … I hit my face.”</p><p>~~~Requested by TYisLit~~~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Byun Baekhyun &amp; Lee Taeyong, Lee Taeyong/Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Requests [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>672</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*gets on my knees*<br/>I am ... so sorry. This fic was requested back in July. It took me over three months to get it out and I am SO SO SO SO SO SO sorry. I started it as soon as it was asked for but then other things happened, I had collabs and college and then I was almost illegally kicked off my course so we had to threaten court action (GUYS, I ALMOST BECAME A KAREN), but now it's out and I just ... I hope it's good enough. The request was a little bit vague and so I kind of linked this fic to another one that I wrote called 'Seven Kilograms'. You don't have to read that one as well but this is kind of a prequel-type thing.</p><p>Anyway, I'll stop rambling and just let you enjoy. Please be wary that this fic does centre around physical abuse so if that is a trigger for you, please don't read.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>             K-Pop Super Boy Band. The Avengers of K-Pop. The ‘M’ stands for both ‘Matrix’ and ‘Master’. “The members join together with synergy – a positive one.” International recognition. Global ambassadors. 75,000 paying real-time viewers in 109 countries. “A rising tide in Western K-Pop demand.”</p><p>So … No pressure then.</p><p>If it was possible to die from exhaustion more than once then Taeyong would be buried fifty feet underground. He was beyond tired. He was beyond <em>beyond </em>tired. With SuperM promotions, 127 activities, collaborations, song-writing and also his own personal issues, he was beginning to feel like a zombie.</p><p>“More energy! I'm falling asleep just watching you!”</p><p>And that wasn’t helping.</p><p>“Baekhyun, what the fuck are you doing? You look like you’ve never danced in your life!”</p><p>Taeyong glanced at his leader in the mirror and saw how desperately he was struggling to keep up. There was sweat dribbling down his face in droves, his breathing sounded like grating metal and his steps were clunky and badly coordinated.</p><p>Apparently Baekhyun was more exhausted then Taeyong was. He looked as if he was about to collapse at any minute but, like the veteran professional he was, he pushed through the viciously energetic moves despite how close he was to faceplanting.</p><p>Their choreography had always been virtually homicidal and Baekhyun was probably the weakest dancer among them even on a good day. Vocals were his strong suit. No, screw that, vocals were his superpower.</p><p>If somebody was going to struggle during practise, it would be him, and he was always trying to make up for it. Taemin had offered to coach him privately on multiple occasions but he insisted that he didn’t want to take up the boy’s time.</p><p>Instead, he stayed behind after every session with the music blasting through the speakers and his feet pounding into the floor until his soles were peppered with blisters and there wasn’t an inch of his body that wasn’t sweating.</p><p>He put so much effort into every aspect of their performance as well as communicating with the higher-ups on behalf of them as their leader, but this new manager just didn’t seem capable of seeing that.</p><p>“You’re embarrassing yourselves! Get it together!”</p><p>They hit the final dance break and even though Taeyong was in the centre, he was far too distracted by his hyung’s physical condition to properly focus on the last few moves. He wasn’t sure Baekhyun would even make it to the end of the song.</p><p>But then the beat dropped and the dance was over and, by some miracle, Baekhyun was still standing.</p><p>“Pathetic!” their manager screeched, marching across the room until he was standing in front of them with his arms folded over his broad chest. “Absolutely fucking pathetic! You morons are supposed to be the best of the best and this is all you can do? Get the fuck out of my studio!”</p><p>Taeyong had to resist the urge to point out that it wasn’t <em>his </em>studio, it was the company’s, but he didn’t want to poke the already-very-pissed-off bear with yet another stick. He understood that they needed to be pushed in order to reach their full potential but this was bordering on abuse.</p><p>Swiping the sweat from his brow, he heaved himself over to the corner of the room and scooped up his bag. Baekhyun limped over to do the same but Taeyong didn’t let him bend down to collect his belongings because he knew that he wouldn’t come back up again.</p><p>“I’ve got it,” he murmured.</p><p>It was a testament to how awful Baekhyun was feeling that he didn’t even protest.</p><p>They flocked towards the door, dragging their aching limbs behind them and chugging water like they hadn’t drunk anything in over a week. It certainly felt like they hadn’t and they’d probably sweated out everything they <em>had </em>drunk.</p><p>Xuxi and Jongin weren’t even teasing each other as they made their way down the hallway towards the exit, and Ten was completely silent. The last one was probably the most worrying.</p><p>“Hey,” Taeyong heard Mark whisper as he crept up on Baekhyun’s other side. “Put your arm around me.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Baekhyun dismissed but he was still wheezing and seemed incapable of walking in a straight line.</p><p>“Hyung,” Mark said seriously, grabbing hold of the leader’s wrist and pulling it across his shoulders. “You’re going to –”</p><p>He didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Baekhyun’s knees buckled. He would have hit the floor catastrophically hard if Mark hadn’t been there to take his weight and hold him upright until he could get his balance back.</p><p>“Hyung?” Taeyong asked tentatively, gripping Baekhyun’s other arm to be sure that he wouldn’t keel over. “Do you need to sit down for a bit? Taemin-hyung, can you get some water?”</p><p>Baekhyun groaned in a response that was probably supposed to sound like a refusal but really resembled more of a pained whimper. His head hung between his shoulders, he was sweating bullets and his face was paler than paper.</p><p>He wasn’t just exhausted. He was ill.</p><p>“Please just get me home,” he rasped without opening his eyes, head rolling onto Mark’s shoulder. “If Manager-nim finds us out here, we’re all dead.”</p><p>Taeyong couldn’t correct him on that. Their manager had told them to leave and if he realised they’d disobeyed his orders and were hanging out in the corridor, they would all be in for it. Baekhyun particularly.</p><p>Baekhyun always seemed to be the one who was in for it. That was just one of the many downsides of being a leader. Taeyong knew that from his 127 experience, although this manager was a lot worse than that one.</p><p>“Okay,” Jongin sighed as he spun around, hooked his hands beneath Baekhyun’s knees and hefted him onto his back as easily as if he were a bag of flour. “Let’s go.”</p><p>Taeyong kept his palm between Baekhyun’s shoulder blades as they walked, partly to make sure he didn’t fall and partly to reassure himself that his hyung wasn’t about to liquify beneath his fingertips.</p><p>He passed out before they even made it to the car, his cheek pressed into Jongin’s shoulder and his body shivering all over.</p><p>“Hyung, this isn’t normal,” Taeyong murmured to Taemin as Xuxi helped get their fallen member buckled into the backseat. “We should get him to see a doctor.”</p><p>Taemin looked like he wanted to agree but Baekhyun chose that moment to pry his cracked lips apart and croak a weary, “no doctor”, without opening his eyes or moving his head from where it had fallen against Xuxi.</p><p>Taeyong would have protested but he was too tired. He got into the front seat of the car alongside their company driver and risked a glance at the others in the rear-view mirror. They all looked half dead but Baekhyun looked fully dead.</p><p>It could just be a virus or his body finally succumbing to the overexertion. He could wake up tomorrow and feel a million times better. He might not even need a doctor and they would get into trouble if they went behind their manager’s back and took him to one.</p><p>He would be okay. He was Baekhyun. And if he wasn’t okay then they would cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, they just needed to get some sleep.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------</p><p> </p><p>             Taeyong was unconscious before his head even hit the pillow but he couldn’t have had more than an hour or two of proper rest before he was being shaken awake by a positively terrified-looking Ten.</p><p>“Baekhyun-hyung.”</p><p>Taeyong was out of bed before he could say another word, throwing the first hoodie he could find over his head before following Ten down the hallway towards the bathroom and the small gathering that had congregated outside it.</p><p>Taemin was talking on the phone, Xuxi and Mark were watching nervously from the side lines and as Taeyong pushed his way over the threshold, he caught sight of what was causing so much distress.</p><p>Baekhyun was hunched over the toilet bowl, skin shining with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, gasping in agony with one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other braced against the toilet seat.</p><p>Jongin was on his knees beside him, rubbing his back placatingly and trying to comb his hair out of his eyes but as he looked up at Taeyong, there was nothing but fear in his expression.</p><p>“Manager-nim said he’s on his way,” Taemin called from outside in the hallway.</p><p>“Ngh …” Baekhyun grunted in pained protest. “Don’t … call him …”</p><p>Taeyong sank to the floor on his hyung’s other side, wincing in sympathy when he saw the excess vomit lathering a pair of swollen lips. It was probably two in the morning and they were all in desperate need of sleep. Their manager would be furious that they’d disturbed him but how could they not?</p><p>Baekhyun needed a doctor.</p><p>As if to prove his point, the eldest lurched forwards and heaved until there was nothing left to bring up. When he was done, he sagged against Jongin’s chest, gasping for breath and clutching his abdomen even tighter.</p><p>“Taeyong …”</p><p>Jongin’s voice was a blaring alarm and as Taeyong peered into the toilet, he could see why. There was blood. And a lot of it.</p><p>“Taemin-hyung? Call an ambulance.”</p><p>“Please …” Baekhyun begged between rattling rasps for air. “It’s fine … I’m fine … Just … Don’t call …”</p><p>Taeyong could already hear Taemin rattling off their address, his voice getting more and more distant as he walked further down the corridor so as not to cause Baekhyun any more distress. If that was possible. The boy was now using the toilet to try and push himself to his feet.</p><p>“Stay down,” Jongin told him firmly. “And stop fighting us. You have to go to a hospital.”</p><p>“I can’t,” Baekhyun gasped, and now his eyes were glazed and unfocused. “You don’t … understand … I can’t …”</p><p>Taeyong had no idea what he was talking about but he was fairly certain that Baekhyun had now crossed the line between lucid and delirious. His skin felt like fire and he barely had the strength to lift his head and he was still clutching his stomach in agony.</p><p>Xuxi handed over a bag of frozen Kimchi wrapped in a hand towel and Jongin took it immediately, pressing the makeshift ice pack against Baekhyun’s burning forehead as though that would just magically make everything better.</p><p>“I’m sorry …” Baekhyun slurred, blood-tinted spittle dripping from his bottom lip. “I can do better … I can … I can do better … I’ll talk … to them … You don’t have to … I’ll talk to … them … They can … They’ll do better … I promise …”</p><p>Jongin looked up and locked eyes with Taeyong, both of them just as bewildered as the other. Baekhyun wasn’t making any sense and it didn’t sound like he was talking <em>to </em>them but it certainly did sound like he was talking <em>about </em>them.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Taeyong murmured despite the confusion, reaching up to give Baekhyun’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing fine, hyung. You don’t need to do any better.”</p><p>Baekhyun threw up three more times before the ambulance finally parked itself in the street outside their dorm and, each of those times, the amount of blood he projected from his mouth increased.</p><p>It was nothing short of terrifying. It felt like he may even have been dying and he still wasn’t speaking coherently. He kept apologising, promising to do better, insisting that he would talk to this ‘them’ and so whoever he was addressing didn’t need to do anything because he would handle it and please don’t …</p><p>“Excuse me, please.”</p><p>Taeyong’s knees popped as he straightened up, retreating back a few paces to give the EMTs room to crouch at Baekhyun’s side.</p><p>“He’s vomiting blood,” Jongin murmured, still with the cold compress held against his hyung’s forehead. “And he’s talking complete nonsense.”</p><p>The EMT nodded solemnly and started unpacking all the necessary equipment.</p><p>“What’s his name?”</p><p>“Byun Baekhyun.”</p><p>“Baekhyun-ssi, is it alright if I take your sweater off so I can measure your blood pressure?”</p><p>She reached for the hem of his hoodie and Baekhyun moved with a speed that was surprising for somebody in his condition, clammy fingers fastening around her wrist as his glassy eyes glared up at her through heavy lids.</p><p>“No …” he croaked, voice like sandpaper. “Don’t.”</p><p>Taeyong could feel the frown tugging at his lips. Baekhyun had never exactly been shy about his body. He walked around naked every other Tuesday and was constantly asking them if they wanted to take showers together.</p><p>“Okay,” the paramedic spoke up, sending her partner a quick side-eye that Taeyong couldn’t interpret. “Why doesn’t everybody wait outside so that we can check Baekhyun-ssi over?”</p><p>They were trying to get them out of the room. Taeyong would be lying if he said that didn’t upset him but he understood that, for whatever reason, Baekhyun didn’t want to show them what was beneath his clothes and they had to respect that if they wanted to get him the help he needed.</p><p>Jongin looked positively murderous as the EMT’s partner took his hyung from his arms but he didn’t resist when Taemin grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the bathroom into the hallway.</p><p>The medic closed the door and, just like that, they were shut off from their leader and whatever was going wrong with his body.</p><p>Taeyong wished he could stay right here so that he wouldn’t have to put any more distance between him and his friend. What if Baekhyun needed him and he was too far away to hear his call for help?</p><p>But he went willingly, allowing Taemin to guide him and the rest of the group into the living room where they each found a piece of furniture to collapse on.</p><p>From down the hallway, Baekhyun let out a scream of pain.</p><p>“What do you think it is?” Ten spoke up, breaking the worrisome silence they’d all adopted. “What do you think’s wrong with him?”</p><p>Taeyong had no idea. It could be all manner of things. When he’d first seen Baekhyun clutching his belly and throwing up, he’d wondered if it was appendicitis or peritonitis or just some inflammation of his gut but then had come the blood.</p><p>Taeyong had contracted appendicitis and he was fairly confident in saying it didn’t result in the projectile vomiting of blood.</p><p>“It might just be a stomach ulcer,” Taemin suggested, but there was no real conviction in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”</p><p>Baekhyun screamed again and the sound cut through Taeyong like a knife. He’d never seen anybody in so much pain and that, coupled with the brainless babbling, made for one petrifying and bewildering disease that they had no name for.</p><p>Maybe the raging fever was the cause of his sudden reluctance to remove his shirt in front of them.</p><p>“Yeah …” Mark mumbled absently as he fidgeted in his lap. “He’ll be fine.”</p><p>The front door banged open and everybody’s least favourite person came striding into the house, almost smoking at the ears in his incontestable fury as he found his targets and regarded them with his best and most dangerous glare.</p><p>Baekhyun was usually the only one who ever got that glare and it almost always resulted in their leader being ordered to stay behind after practise for a ‘little chat’.</p><p>“What the fuck are you morons doing?” he seethed through gritted teeth. He was definitely not a morning person. “You have promotions tomorrow and you’re doing what exactly? Wasting EMT’s time and resources for a little case of stomach flu?”</p><p>“He was vomiting blood,” Taeyong countered coldly. “What did you want us to do? Leave him on the bathroom floor to die?”</p><p>The manager seemed positively irate, as if he was about to cross the room in two strides and plant his fist in Taeyong’s face and therefore he was more than a little relieved when the bathroom door opened and the paramedics brought Baekhyun back out.</p><p>If it was even possible, he looked worse.</p><p>There was a cannula threaded beneath his nose, hooked behind his ears and attached to the oxygen cylinder that was resting on the stretcher beside his leg. A blanket had been laid on top of him but Taeyong could see that he was shirtless beneath it.</p><p>And he was unconscious.</p><p>“Is this really necessary?” the manager sighed, eyeing his artist’s pasty figure with distaste. “We really shouldn’t be wasting your time. He’s fine.”</p><p>The female medic looked him up and down, “He’s not. Now, if you’ll please move out of the way, Sir, I need to get my patient to the hospital.”</p><p>Taeyong didn’t know whether to applaud the woman for her fearlessness and determination to protect Baekhyun or panic at the admission that his hyung was not okay. His hyung needed a hospital. His hyung currently couldn’t even breathe on his own.</p><p>None of that was a good sign.</p><p>“Are any of you riding with us?” the EMT directed at the rest of them as she and her partner guided Baekhyun’s stretcher to the door. “Because we have to get going now.”</p><p>Taeyong was already on his feet, able to sense rather than see Jongin and Taemin do the same, but it was their manager who spoke up first.</p><p>“I’m coming.”</p><p>The woman who breathed fire probably would have protested his presence in her ambulance but she seemed more concerned with getting her patient out of here than arguing with an irrelevant narcissist.</p><p>Taeyong could only watch with a heavy heart and shredded nerves as his hyung’s unconscious body was taken away. The manager paused in the doorway just long enough to address them one last time before he followed his charge out to the ambulance.</p><p>“The rest of you get to bed. If I see a single yawn tomorrow, I will make every single one of you regret the day you were born.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I did actually write this chapter about three months ago so the timeline is a little outdated. Apologies for that. Hope you enjoy anyway and be mindful that this is a story centred around abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>           Usually when Taeyong’s alarm woke him, he would switch it off and spend a couple of minutes gathering the courage to venture outside of his blanketed warmth, but not today. When he heard the blinking beep from his phone, he was immediately snatching it up off the bedside cabinet and checking his messages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubted that Baekhyun would be in a state in which he could send any of them a text but he’d hoped that, maybe, their manager would be kind enough to provide them with an update. He should have been prepared for the blank screen that he was faced with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot water was not a blessing he was willing to wait for as he stepped under the faucet, shivering as the icy jet doused his body in goosebumps for no more than two minutes before he stepped back out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he got all his necessary morning rituals out of the way as quickly as possible, that would give him more time to find out what had happened to Baekhyun after the paramedics had taken him to the hospital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he croaked wearily upon his entrance to the kitchen. “Have you heard from Baekhyun-hyung or Manager-nim?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten shook his head from where he was prodding at his plate of scrambled eggs at the table and Jongin mumbled a resigned ‘no’ over the sound of the coffee pot preparing their morning doses of caffeine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a fan event this morning. They couldn’t afford to be tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong took the mug that Jongin passed him and drank half of it in one gulp. The bitter tang tugged unpleasantly at his taste buds and the boiling liquid burned the tip of his tongue but he didn’t possess the energy to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One by one, the others dragged themselves into the kitchen and took their share of the coffee. Nobody looked like they’d gotten more than a couple of hours sleep and nobody had received any sort of message from their missing leader or their manager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s fair to say …” Taemin started once they were all seated around the table, Baekhyun’s empty seat glaring at them in betrayal. “… that hyung won’t be at the fan event so we need to decide who’s going to take over the role of leader in his absence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All eyes immediately fixed themselves on Taeyong who felt as if his entire nervous system had just been dunked in a vat of ice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he shook his head at once. “I don’t want to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still recovering from the hell he’d been put through over the past few months. The thought of facing his fans after all of that was daunting as hell but he’d been managing to cope by telling himself that he wouldn’t have to perform any of his leading duties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing that was convincing to get up there was knowing he would just be able to sit back and let Baekhyun do all the work. If that was taken away from him, he knew for a fact that he would crumble on stage in front of all those cameras. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes zipped around the table, boring into every face and silently pleading with them to just not ask questions and understand that he wasn’t capable of doing what they were asking of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taemin was the last one he looked at and Taemin seemed to be the only one who could see the fear in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a ripple of affirmative murmurs from around the table as everybody returned to their rather soggy breakfast. Taeyong caught his hyung’s eye and mouthed the words ‘thank you’, receiving a nod of acknowledgement in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t afraid to be a leader. He just wasn’t ready to go back to that role just yet. When he officially returned to 127 for whichever promotions would come next, he would have pulled himself together. He just hadn’t yet reached that point of feeling safe in a leader’s shoes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody was particularly inclined to finish their breakfast but they were fully aware that if they passed out on stage from low blood sugar – it wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before – they would be in for one hell of a screaming at, so each of them scraped their plates clean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their manager arrived shortly after that, dark circles beneath his eyes and a permanent look of sour irritation on his ugly face. He must have stayed up with Baekhyun until pretty late, and Taeyong was certain that he wouldn’t have exactly been gracious about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s hyung?” Mark asked immediately, just as they finished clearing their plates. “Is he okay? Do you know when he can come home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Grumpy was quite obviously put off by Mark’s admittedly rude greeting but he rolled his eyes and gave them the answers they craved despite his distaste at their attitudes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine. They performed the surgery and he’s in recovery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said it so matter-of-factly but Taeyong’s world came crashing down at the idea of Baekhyun being so sick that he’d needed to undergo an operation. As in, completely unconscious, naked on a metal table, a tube down his throat and a complete stranger cutting into his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, he hadn’t managed to process the fact that it could possibly be that serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was wrong with him?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Appendicitis.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. Since when did appendicitis cause somebody to cough up blood? Their manager was lying to them. About Baekhyun’s condition. Why the hell would he do that? Was he trying not to worry them before they were about to appear in public? Taeyong doubted he cared that much but even if he did, shouldn’t he have thought up a more believable lie? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now are you ready? God knows I’ve given you long enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong would have preferred to ask more questions. He wanted to know when Baekhyun would be able to come home, when they would be able to visit him and how he was feeling in the wake of his surgery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no arguing with this man. If he wanted them to do something, they did it, otherwise they faced the consequences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Then go get in the fucking car. I seriously don’t want any funny business today from any of you. I’m not in the mood for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never in the mood for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staying resolutely silent, partly from worry and partly from submission, they gathered their bags and traipsed out into the hallway toward the gaping door. Taeyong made to follow behind them but the hand on his arm stopped him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a minute, Taeyong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others were probably already halfway to the car so now it was just Taeyong and this gargantuan beast of a man who’d gotten less than three hours of sleep last night and hated his guts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dongsoo-ssi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have withered on the spot at the look that his manager gave him alone. It was judgemental and disapproving and just a little demeaning. As though he were a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to be in charge for today,” he declared in a tone that Taeyong knew meant he did not want to be argued with. “Keep the others in check, make sure they behave appropriately and don’t let them say anything stupid. I’m sure even you can manage that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Manager-nim,” Taeyong protested, deciding to ignore the unnecessarily blunt insult. “I think Taemin-hyung would be better suited for …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I said I didn’t want any funny business,” Dongsoo snapped, nostrils flaring in anger. “I’m telling you to buck up and be a big boy for one fucking day and you’re telling me you can’t even do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Sir, but Taemin-hyung –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taemin’s too immature,” Dongsoo interrupted him yet again, clearly getting closer to the end of his tether with every minute they continued to bicker. “He’s used to being the youngest. I need someone who actually has a vague idea of how a leader is supposed to act. So can I count on you to do that small and simple task or do I have to ask one of the maknaes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could feel his cheeks burning with humiliation and he lowered his head towards the floor just so that he wouldn’t be mocked for the blush that was creeping up his neck. He knew Dongsoo wasn’t above that kind of behaviour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Sir. I can do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank God,” came the huff of exasperation in reply. “Apparently, you’re useful for more than just your face and your body. Now go get in the goddamn car.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His huge meaty hand shot up to clasp the back of Taeyong’s neck and shove him towards the door so forcefully that he tripped, stumbled and almost fell face-first into the floor. Barely managing to regain his balance and save himself any further embarrassment, Taeyong scurried out of the house and down the driveway without another word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Xuxi asked him as he climbed into the back seat of the car and pulled his cap down low over his eyes to hide the rosiness of his cheeks. “What did he want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s reply was barely audible, even to him, “More than I’m capable of giving.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>            When they reached the event, Dongsoo gave them all one last rallying pep talk that was more of a yelling than it was a motivational spiel but as soon as he got onto the stage, Taeyong tried to forget about all of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our beloved leader, Baekhyun-hyung, is not feeling very well today,” Taemin reported, his beaming smile resolutely in place despite the outcry that rippled through the crowd. “And so he isn’t able to be here but he’s recovering well and wanted us to tell you all that he loves you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a lie. They had no idea how Baekhyun was doing or what he wanted because Dongsoo hadn’t told them. Taemin was merely regurgitating the same speech he’d heard others before him give so that the fans wouldn’t worry as much as the idols themselves were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taemin had said he’d do the chant and make the statement about Baekhyun so that particular weight was lifted off Taeyong’s shoulders. He allowed himself to enjoy being in the presence of his fans, joking around with his members and just relishing in the publicity he had missed so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They played the games, they answered the questions, the fans laughed, they were having fun and everything was as natural as it could be without Baekhyun among them. Despite the concern that was settled in each of their guts, they put on the personas they were so familiar with and nobody would have known their smiles weren’t quite 100% real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The end of the event came too soon for Taeyong’s liking. He would have preferred to stay a little longer so that he wouldn’t have to go backstage and face the reality of his situation, but he had no control of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They said their final goodbyes and Taeyong prepared himself to jump in with the group chant that Taemin was due to initiate but, at the last second, the eldest among them faltered and said instead: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A brief flash of panic shot through Taeyong’s chest but the fans seemed to be laughing and he had to admit that Taemin’s expression of blank embarrassment was pretty goddamn adorable. He looked to Taeyong, as though he would somehow be able to erase the last ten seconds from existence, and Taeyong could only giggle at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was definitely made to be a maknae. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finally managed to get through their parting chant, waved to the fans and exited the stage. Immediately once they were out of the public eye, Xuxi, Ten and Mark were jumping on Taemin, shaking him by the shoulders and mimicking his temporary brain freeze while the subject of their victimisation rubbed the back of his neck and blushed bright red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Taeyong was laughing right up until the moment he saw the cold fury on Dongsoo’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck was that?” he spat, instantly wiping away any trace of their smiles. “Are you an idol group or a bunch of children?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong closed his eyes, as though that could help him escape the next few minutes. He thought they’d done well. He thought they’d performed their roles to perfection but, apparently, however they’d acted wasn’t enough for their manager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to be representing not just your company but the entire Korean music industry. Not many groups get the publicity that you guys are getting and this is how you choose to use it? By fucking around like a group of mindless teenagers who have no idea what they’re doing? This is not the group I want to be associated with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They each hung their heads, all residue of happiness having dissipated completely, and Taeyong could almost feel the guilt radiating off Taemin’s body. He wished he could reach out and squeeze his shoulder, tell him he didn’t do anything wrong, but he knew it would get them both in trouble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get back to the dressing room,” Dongsoo snapped with a dismissive and dehumanising flick of his wrist. “Take your makeup off and get ready to leave. Taeyong, stay here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dread was ice cold and grossly unpleasant as it spread through Taeyong’s gut. He didn’t dare raise his head even when Jongin gave him a sympathetic pat on the back and Taemin whispered a ghostly apology. He kept his eyes on the floor and his hands folded respectfully behind his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Dongsoo demanded once the door had closed and the two of them were alone. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to say something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to say but he settled for, “I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo practically choked on a humourless laugh. It was a horrible sound. A sound that Taeyong knew meant he was in for one hell of an earful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it? You’re sorry? Did I not make myself clear this morning? I thought I could trust you to be mature and professional in your leader’s absence but apparently you can’t even do that. You let your members run amuck, make complete fools of themselves, disgrace the reputation of the entire group when I specifically asked you to control them for one measly hour.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fans like it when we’re enjoying ourselves,” Taeyong countered, still without raising his head. “They find it endearing and entertaining to watch. They wouldn’t pay if all they were going to see were a collection of mindless robots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he should have kept his mouth shut as soon as he felt Dongsoo looming over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every single one of you has an image to maintain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong wasn’t expecting the slap that smacked against the skin of his cheek. It wasn’t particularly violent or painful, it was more an act of degradation, and he managed to keep his head down and his eyes averted even if his jaw clenched in anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your actions don’t only reflect on yourselves and your careers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another slap, a little harder this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they reflect on me and mine, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another slap, once again with a little more force behind it. It was starting to become painful as the entirety of his left cheek began to sting from the repeated trauma to the same area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I tell you to do something …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I expect you to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SMACK!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong actually gasped that time, his head snapping to the side and his hand coming up to caress the abused skin as his eyes immediately started to water from the pain. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hit – 127’s manager would occasionally dole out a few blows to the back of their heads – but it was the first time he’d been hit that hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first time his assailant had actually wanted to do him harm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I made myself clear?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was so close to nodding, so close to doing absolutely anything to get him out of this room and away from those huge hands with the flat palms that imprinted finger-shaped bruises on his face, but then he thought of something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo was so calm and collected, like he’d done this a hundred times before and it no longer affected him in the slightest. And Taeyong could think of one member who was suddenly refusing to show his skin in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this what you do to Baekhyun-hyung?” he whispered, finally allowing his eyes to roam upwards until they were locked on Dongsoo’s face. “Do you hit him, too? Is that why he’s in the hospital? Is that why you won’t let us see him? Because you’re the reason he’s there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo looked ready to murder, “I would be very careful about choosing your next words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Taeyong, that was as good as a confession, and suddenly his every pore was alight with fury. Dongsoo had been hitting Baekhyun right under their noses and they hadn’t had a clue, and if the condition their leader was in at this moment really was thanks to their manager, the abuse didn’t stop at just a few smacks.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What were the symptoms of internal bleeding? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Taeyong hissed. “You gonna do it to me, too? Punch me in the stomach? Kick me in the back? Break my nose? Give me bruises? Rupture my internal organs? You think that’s not going to draw attention? Two of your artists suddenly sustaining serious injuries in the space of two days?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never felt this angry before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For whatever reason, Baekhyun had stayed silent for all this time and it had almost killed him. Maybe he’d been threatened, maybe he was just too afraid of retribution, but Taeyong was determined to expose this man for the monster that he was. For Baekhyun’s sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will give you one chance to apologise,” Dongsoo growled under his breath and it suddenly occurred to Taeyong just how close they’d gotten to each other. “And I strongly suggest you take it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury flared. It dominated all sense of reason. Looking back, it should have stayed put. Maybe then he would have been able to predict what would happen if he didn’t drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead, he leaned forwards and tilted his head up until he and his manager were almost nose to nose and hissed out the words, “Make me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Massive mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even see the hand coming until it was wrapped around his throat, the entirety of Dongsoo’s weight bulldozing him backwards until he hit the opposite wall and was pinned there like a butterfly in a frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fingers against his windpipe were too tight, cutting off any and all attempts at inhalation and Taeyong could already see the bright white spots in the corners of his vision as he frantically swiped at the chokehold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can’t breathe … Can’t breathe … Can’t breathe …</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, just when he thought he was going to pass out from the sheer lack of oxygen, Dongsoo wrenched him away from the wall and flung him to the ground as if he was nothing more than a child’s ragdoll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulder took the brunt of the impact, a strangled grunt of pain escaping his abused throat, and he knew he should be getting up before the boot could dig itself into his ribs but his head was swimming and his legs felt like jelly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kick to his stomach knocked every drop of air he’d managed to regain right back out of his lungs. He curled in on himself, desperately trying to protect his head and abdomen from further abuse, and only then did he realise the assault had stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo was laughing at him, sneering and sniggering like a playground bully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be wearing a turtleneck at the next schedule. Ice your face, take some aspirin and tape your muscles if you’re really too weak to handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded so matter-of-fact. So professional. As if this was an everyday occurrence for him. Taeyong was still crumpled on the floor in the foetal position, entire body throbbing and smarting, and this man was talking to him as if he hadn’t been the one to put him there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get the fuck up. Your bandmates will be waiting for you and you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day without being late.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong tried. He really, really tried, but he couldn’t get his legs to move. He was still fighting for breath and clutching his bruised stomach while his mouth hung open and his cheek burned. He wasn’t sure he was capable of standing, let alone walking around like nothing had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo’s non-existent patience seemed to have reached an end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bent down with an unsubtle spit of, “for fuck’s sake”, and fastened those big fat sausage fingers of his around his victim’s upper arm, clearly intending to heave him off the ground and frogmarch him out to the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was skinny. Perhaps a little too skinny than was healthy. His arms were about as thick as a small soda can and so when Dongsoo grabbed him with enough force to leave even more bruises blemishing his body, he felt like the bone itself was going to break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still wheezing, still terrifyingly dizzy and unsteady, Taeyong scrambled to get his feet underneath him and suddenly it occurred to him that the hand on his bicep – the hand that was “helping” him – was the same hand that had been around his throat just a few seconds previously.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off me …” he gasped, frantically wriggling in his manager’s grasp as panic took hold of his mind and body. “Let go … Please, let go …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This man was going to snap him in two. He was squeezing too tight, moving too fast, dragging him along when he couldn’t keep up, and he wanted to be released right this second before he could hear bone splintering and cartilage tearing beneath his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere in the back of his head, he heard Dongsoo snort, and the hand disappeared from his arm so suddenly that he lost his balance and fell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And smacked his face on the corner of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lights were still popping in front of his eyes when Dongsoo dropped to his knees in front of him and seized both his wrists, forcing them away from where they’d curled protectively in front of his injured face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You little shit …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all too much. The first few tears started to well up but Taeyong’s eye was already beginning to swell and he could feel a tiny rivulet of blood trickling from somewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look what you did!” Dongsoo shouted in his face, using his grip on Taeyong’s wrists to shake him. “You stupid clumsy bitch! That’s going to bruise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seized the artist’s chin and forced it upwards into the light, turning it from side to side to inspect the wound and blatantly ignoring Taeyong’s stifled whimpers of pain as his traumatised cheek was jostled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what we’ll have to do now, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong couldn’t exactly shake his head due to the vice that was keeping it still and he wasn’t sure his throat was capable of producing any sort of verbal response so he just knelt there and cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If the makeup artists can’t cover that up,” Dongsoo hissed, jaw bulging with infuriated irritation. “We’re going to have to pull you from all promotions until it’s healed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could only swallow, an action which hurt much more than he’d expected it to now that his neck was also starting to swell. The tears dribbled over his cheeks, the salty concoction stinging his wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo made a noise of disgust, releasing his idol’s chin and straightening up so that he had more room to pinch the bridge of his nose in a gesture of resigned defeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what you get for being a disrespectful brat,” he spat as he dug a mask out of his pocket and threw it at his snivelling victim. “Put that on and stay here while I take the others home. Do not leave this room until I come back or I’ll show you what a real beating is.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s hands trembled as he picked up the strip of fabric and looped it around his ears. He positioned it a little higher on his nose in an attempt to hide as much of his beautifully blossoming black eye as possible and the material was already wet with his tears by the time Dongsoo had left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lock clicked behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never felt like he was worth so little and he wondered how many times Baekhyun had experienced these same sensations while the rest of them were laughing and joking around just a few walls away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo hadn’t just assaulted him physically, he’d somehow burrowed deep down into Taeyong’s sense of self worth and torn those fragile foundations to tatters. He’d left him behind to go and take care of the rest of his group as though Taeyong was no longer considered a member of their ranks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This couldn’t be allowed. Managers got physical sometimes – particularly those who worked for SM – and the company were fine with it so long as the right results were produced. But he knew for a fact that if anybody ever left a bruise on an idol, they were done for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Dongsoo had been doing to Baekhyun and now what he’d done to Taeyong was crossing a line even for SM. What if he lost his temper with the others? What if he went after Mark or Xuxi? What if Taeyong wasn’t there to stop him? What if Baekhyun didn’t get any better? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was aware that something had to be done before anybody else could suffer at the hands of the person who was supposed to protect and nurture their careers but there was very little he could do now that he was locked in here with a messed-up face and throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he just sat there, tears still falling, fists clenched in his lap. His fear and pain were dying away but as those emotions receded, another one grew, and that one was a lot stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>         It was maybe another hour or two before Dongsoo came back for Taeyong and by then, the tears had completely dried up and the bruise at the peak of his cheekbone had turned a brilliantly deep purple colour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d managed to find a tissue box in the back of a storage cupboard and had used it to clean up the blood. There wasn’t an excessive amount and the wound was only a small slit just beneath his right eye but it would still cause a problem when he eventually came into contact with the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t planning to lie to them. He would tell the truth, loud and clear, and he knew they would instantly rally behind him when they learned what had been happening to Baekhyun behind their backs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In short, he was still fuming when Dongsoo unlocked the door and demanded he follow him to the car, but he stayed submissive and silent as he trailed behind his manager for the purpose of avoiding any further confrontation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them in the car and, in that situation, Taeyong would usually take the front passenger seat but there was absolutely no way he wanted to be within arms’ reach of that man if he could help it. He took the backseat instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They exchanged no conversation. He could practically hear Dongsoo’s teeth grinding as he drove and his knuckles had turned white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. He was still pissed and that was why Taeyong waited until they were almost back at the dorm to open his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir?” he started, voice slightly hoarse from the strangulation and muffled from behind the mask. “May I ask you a question?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of blazing eyes locked with his in the rear-view mirror and the cogs were clearly whirring behind them for a good few minutes before Dongsoo finally responded with a wordless nod, clearly still irritated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does Baekhyun-hyung have his phone with him? I want to be able to talk to him and make sure he’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second his friend’s name left his mouth, he saw Dongsoo bristle but he didn’t break eye contact. He’d already humiliated himself by panicking and even crying just a few hours previously. He didn’t want this man to think he was afraid of him, because he wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baekhyun-ssi is fine,” came the stoic response, the exact same one that Taeyong had been expecting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to stare at the back of his manager’s head, deliberately trying to make him feel uncomfortable so that he would offer up more information. Any information. Taeyong wouldn’t have put it past this man to lie straight to his face. Baekhyun could have been dead for all he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo finally relented, keeping his tone flat and emotionless as he reported, “I confiscated his phone. I didn’t want him distracted during his recovery period.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he said it made it clear to Taeyong that there were no further questions allowed on the subject, but the leader was certain he wouldn’t have gotten much else anyway. He was also certain that Baekhyun’s recovery wasn’t the reason for his phone’s confiscation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo didn’t want them communicating with each other and Taeyong knew why. He didn’t want Baekhyun to tell them the reason why he’d been raced to the hospital on a blue light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car trundled to a stop in the road outside the dorm and, thankfully, Dongsoo kept the engine running, meaning he didn’t intend on entering the building alongside Taeyong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice your face,” he ordered coldly. “And get some sleep. I want you in perfect working condition for tomorrow’s practise session.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Taeyong muttered, resisting the urge to slip some passive aggressive sarcasm into his tone as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. “Thank you for the ride.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked up the driveway towards the dorm complex, he tried to come up with what exactly he was going to say when the others saw the discolouration of his face and throat. He could just blurt out the truth but there had to be a gentler way to tell them that the man they were supposed to trust was nothing more than an abusive bastard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he’d gotten his keys into the lock, he still hadn’t come up with an opening statement and he also had no idea what he was going to do about Baekhyun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he tell him? When he finally got to speak to him, that was. Did he add to his stress because he was the leader and he deserved to know or did he keep it from him to preserve what little dignity the boy had left?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And suddenly it hit him, just as the door was swinging open, that he was ashamed of himself. He could have fought back. He could have done what he’d been asked to do in the first place and control his group better. He didn’t have to provoke Dongsoo or even confront him at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he partly to blame for what had happened to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong? What the hell took you so long? Why didn’t you come back in the car with us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin’s bombardment of questions were too overwhelming for words. He came out of nowhere with his big puppy dog eyes and his worried wandering hands and Taeyong’s head was too full of self-hatred and confusion to come up with a response to any of his inquiries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was still concealed by the mask that Dongsoo had given him and the handprint that was slowly darkening in colour across his throat was hidden by his jacket collar but it wouldn’t be long before he was encouraged to remove both items of clothing and asked what the hell was wrong with his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to think of something to say. He had to think quickly. Jongin’s voice was rising in volume the longer that Taeyong remained silent and the commotion had drawn both Xuxi and Taemin from their respective rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Johnny rising from his chair at the table. It briefly occurred to him that Johnny shouldn’t be here but there was too much going on inside his head to dwell on that particular anomaly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if he told them what happened and they brushed it off as something normal? Jongin and Taemin had been in this industry a lot longer than him. Maybe they’d had similar experiences before and maybe they’d tell him that he was making a big deal out of nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe they would laugh in his face as they examined his bruises and concluded that they were merely bumps and scrapes compared to injuries that they’d sustained early on in their careers. Maybe he would just be stirring up trouble if he said anything at all. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe … </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong, talk to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand came for his face and he flinched before he could stop himself. It was stupid and cowardly and the expression of hurt on Jongin’s face as he quickly withdrew was enough to squash the breath from his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin would never hit him. He knew Jongin would never hit him. So why had he reacted like that? Why had he insulted his hyung by shying away from his touch? What was Jongin thinking right now? That his little brother was sour about something? In a bad mood? Or just being a bitchy baby? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong.” He was snapped out of his internal spiral by the cold yet clear utterance of his name from the other side of the room. From Johnny. “Take off your mask.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny knew. Johnny had probably guessed from the way he was acting and from how unusually high his mask was positioned on his nose. There was no use hiding anything from Johnny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving quickly so as to hide the fact that his hands had started to shake, Taeyong reached up and tore the cloth from his face. He fumbled with it briefly, folding it and unfolding it and then refolding it again, before finally stuffing it into his pocket and looking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was expecting some kind of collective gasp of shock but there was nothing. Just complete and total silence. It was deafening and awkward and horrifically uncomfortable all at once and he just wanted somebody to say something before he melted into the doormat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark and Ten were there now, too, and everybody was just staring at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that Dongsoo?” Johnny asked at last, but his voice was shaking with poorly-concealed rage and his hands were balled at his sides. “Did Dongsoo do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obeyed, shuffling around the back of the sofa and sinking down onto the cushions. His skin prickled beneath so many sets of eyes and he resolutely refused to meet a single one of them, keeping his attention on his own hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a smudge of blood on his index finger from where he’d wiped his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around him, he could feel the others all settling themselves as well. It looked a little like some kind of morbid book club or alcoholics anonymous meeting. And they were all still staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, his eye had ballooned so fantastically that an extra head wouldn’t be too far off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I …” His voice was still so raw-sounding. If he wasn’t careful, they would ask to take a look at his neck as well. “I don’t want to be treated like a victim here. I just want to have an adult conversation about how we’re going to handle this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong …” Taemin started, and Taeyong could tell just from the way he said it that he was already in mother-hen mode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not as bad as it looks,” the boy with the bruises defended before his hyung could continue. “Seriously, it’s not. He didn’t … punch me or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody looked convinced but it was Ten who spoke up, “Then what did he do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong hadn’t been expecting this to be so hard. He felt shaky, sweaty, sick. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to have a shower. He wanted to go straight to bed and sleep for a week. He wanted so many things and all of them were the complete opposite of what was happening right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to tell them what he’d allowed Dongsoo to do to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I …” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, wincing as his throat gave a protesting throb. “He was angry because of the way we were acting so he … he … erm … slapped me a few times but nothing too hard. I swear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up and locked eyes with Johnny. He’d never seen somebody look so furious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then … I … I provoked him …” He had to look back down at his lap. He didn’t want to see the distaste and disappointment in their expressions. “I know I shouldn’t have but I got really angry and then he … he … he …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t realised he’d been twisting the end of his sleeve around his thumb until Mark reached over and took his hand. It was such a kind gesture and the touch was so soft that Taeyong almost burst into tears right there on the spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did he do?” the maknae whispered. It was a deathly quiet question but everybody heard it. “Can you tell us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, closed it once more and shook his head. He couldn’t find the words to describe how terrified he’d been when Dongsoo’s hand had tightened around his throat and his back had met the wall and he hadn’t been able to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to tell them. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide it. The explanation was just refusing to come out of his mouth. His tongue wouldn’t cooperate with his brain’s commands. It was both frustrating and terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was his body reacting this way when all Dongsoo had done was rough him up a little? What kind of wimpish behaviour was this that he was pretending like he’d been in some kind of warzone when he’d barely been touched at all? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran a hand through his hair and unconsciously began to tug on the collar of his jacket. It felt too tight. He felt suffocated. Why couldn’t they stop staring at him just for a moment? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head whipped to the side and his pulse sped up at the sight of Mark’s widened eyes fixated on his neck. He hadn’t realised he’d exposed the bruises but it was too late to correct his mistake because now Mark was reaching for his collar and pulling it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now everybody could see Dongsoo’s fingerprints burned into his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He choked me,” Taeyong croaked, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. “Then he threw me on the ground and kicked me. And when he tried to pull me up, I freaked out and I told him to let go and he did … but I fell and I … I hit my face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured pathetically towards his blackened eye and tried to ignore the brush of Mark’s fingertips against the markings on his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another infinite silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get an ice pack,” Xuxi muttered before extricating himself from the couch and ambling towards the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked like he was in a bit of a daze. If Taeyong was being honest, he felt the same way. Having said it out loud, he suddenly realised just how close he could have come to seriously injuring himself. The bruises on his body no longer felt like a few bumps and scrapes and he certainly no longer felt like he was overdramatising the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo could very easily have done some serious damage to his throat. He could have stopped breathing. He could have ruptured something in his stomach when he was being beaten. One of his ribs could have broken and punctured his lung. He could have knocked himself out when he hit the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This couldn’t be allowed to happen again. Not to him, not to Baekhyun, not to any of them. It wasn’t right and it had to be stopped.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to do?” Johnny asked, and his voice was level but Taeyong could tell he was still seething beneath the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xuxi returned with one of the ice packs they kept in the freezer and handed it to their acting leader. Only when Taeyong had it in his hand did he realise he didn’t know where to put it. His face seemed to be the obvious choice but there was his throat and his chest, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the discolouring that he was sure was blooming across his abdomen, he applied the cold compress to his swollen cheek. That was the injury that people were going to see and so that was the injury that was most dangerous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to tell the company,” he said at last, looking around the room at each of them. “But I’m not sure they’ll believe me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely they have to,” Mark protested weakly. He was still engrossed in examining the marks on his hyung’s neck. “There are … There are fingerprints.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Taeyong’s right,” came Taemin’s sigh as he dragged his hands through his hair. Everyone was looking at him now. “I’ve been through this before. Dongsoo will get a scolding for leaving visible bruises on you but nothing more than that. We’d need proof that he did something inordinately terrible if we wanted to get him fired.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong hadn’t known that but now that he thought about it, Taemin had been in the industry for a long time. If he hadn’t encountered an abusive manager or two than that would be even less normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What constitutes ‘inordinately terrible’?” Ten questioned, his eyes flickering over to Taeyong’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like they were thinking of the same thing. Ten must have made the connection between Dongsoo’s behaviour and Baekhyun’s hospitalisation as well. If their hyung’s surgical intervention wasn’t enough to prove that their manager was a scumbag then what was? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure,” Taemin murmured in response. He sounded so exhausted. “I was just a kid at the time and Jinki-hyung never let him be alone with me so I don’t remember exactly what convinced the company to finally get rid of him but I do remember finding Minho-hyung unconscious at the bottom of the stairs right before the bastard lost his job.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was overwhelming. Taeyong’s chest felt tight and every one of his bruises felt like it gave a particularly strong throb at the sound of his hyung’s words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d heard rumours that, once upon a time, Minho had to be carried out of the building on a stretcher after a fall down the stairs but he’d never realised it was because somebody had pushed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way he was going to let it get that far this time. Dongsoo would have to go before anything even remotely as serious as that could happen. No one else was ending up in hospital because of that man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong only wished he was capable of protecting Mark, Ten and Xuxi like Jinki had protected Taemin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s been hitting Baekhyun-hyung for a while,” he blurted before he could stop himself but, from the sad expressions that rippled around the room, he knew it wasn’t a shock to anyone. “He told me that he’d confiscated his phone because he wanted him to focus on his recovery but I think he just doesn’t want him telling us what really happened to him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad was it?” Johnny piped up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad,” Jongin grunted back. “He was in so much pain, vomiting blood, burning up, delirious…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny cursed under his breath. Baekhyun was probably the reason he was even here right now: because he’d heard that his hyung was in the hospital and had come running to the SuperM dorm to find out what the hell was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Dongsoo won’t let us see him or speak to him which, you know, just makes the whole situation even more suspicious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can talk to the company,” Taemin finally declared, but he sounded about as far from convinced as it was possible to get. “I’m not confident that they’ll listen and Dongsoo will probably be able to wriggle his way out of any accusations we throw his way but it’s better than doing nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the first time Taeyong had found himself cursing SM Entertainment for their distinct lack of care when it came to the artists who paid for the food on their tables. They weren’t asking for much. Just protection from anti-fans and stalkers and decent treatment from staff members. It wasn’t like they were demanding solid gold toilet seats or anything.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Dongsoo had been so calm throughout the entire assault. He hadn’t told Taeyong to keep his mouth shut or try to hide the evidence of abuse which most likely meant that he wasn’t afraid of being caught. Maybe he was on good terms with the higher-ups, maybe he just knew how to lie but, either way, it didn’t look promising for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Yong?” Taemin called tentatively, drawing Taeyong’s attention to the phone he’d just pulled from his pocket. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with but it might help if I had some … proof … you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held up the device in his hand but it took a few more seconds for Taeyong’s addled mind to process what was being asked of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he stuttered, skin already crawling at the mere thought of immortalising his pain. “O-Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark got up from beside him so that Taemin had room to sit down, his facial muscles twisted into a sad smile of sympathy as Taeyong slowly lowered the ice pack and pulled down his shirt collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t look at the camera as Taemin photographed the bruises. It was all he could do not to cry at the prospect of anybody but his closest friends seeing the blemishes on his body. The only thought that stopped him from covering himself back up and sprinting to his room was Baekhyun lying alone and in pain on a hospital bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had endured so much for so long without saying a word. The least Taeyong could do was close his eyes and let a camera shutter click a couple of times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Taemin breathed after what felt like far too long, his hand closing around Taeyong’s and steadily guiding the ice pack back up to his cheek. “I’m done now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t raise his eyes from the floor. He couldn’t look at any of them. He just wanted the sofa cushions to open up and swallow him whole so that he wouldn’t have to face the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he couldn’t even protect himself, how was he going to protect the rest of them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go lie down,” he mumbled as he pried himself off the couch and turned his back on his members. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need to look to know that they were exchanging worried glances behind him. He was too tired even to address their overreactions, wanting nothing more than to curl up beneath his blankets and sleep off the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting the ice pack on his pillow so he could continue to soothe his cheek even in unconsciousness, he lay down and closed his eyes. The voices that drifted from beneath the closed door, most likely the others discussing their predicament, should have unsettled him but instead they just eased his passage into the realm of darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where Dongsoo was waiting for him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>              Johnny stayed the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong didn’t realise it until he woke up the following morning but his friend had slept in Baekhyun’s bed since it had been too late for him to return to 127’s dorm and he was too worried to leave them. As soon as their alarms went off, though, he had to race home or else he risked being caught by Dongsoo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he was particularly opposed to the idea. Mark and Ten had actually needed to force him out of the door for fear that he would deck their manager the second that he saw him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stick together,” was the last thing he’d said before he left. “Don’t let him get any of you alone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong spent maybe twenty minutes in the bathroom, sponging concealer over his bruises. Jongin had tried to help him but at the end of their amateur tutorial, all they had to show for it were a few chalky clumps on his throat and cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bruises stood out like neon signs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the best that we can do,” Jongin murmured, his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders as the two of them stared into the mirror above the sink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not enough.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me,” his hyung hissed as he spun Taeyong around and held him at arms’ length so they could look each other directly in the eyes. “He will never touch you again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way he could make a promise like that. He knew it and Taeyong knew it but he appreciated the attempt at reassurance. If Dongsoo wanted him alone then he would get him alone and he would find some reason to punish him but there was nothing they could do about it. Not yet anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Promise me something,” he said once they’d all finished their breakfast and were sitting silently around the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taemin was the one who answered, “Anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t confront him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stared at him, blinking, dumbfounded, as though he’d just declared a desire to run away and join the circus. Taeyong understood far too well that they were all angry about how Dongsoo had treated him and Baekhyun but if they tried to jump down the man’s throat, the only result they would get was more bruises. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” he deadpanned, finally raising his eyes and staring each of them down. “I don’t know what he’ll do to me if he finds out I told you and I don’t know what he’ll do to you if you try to backtalk him so let’s just … Keep quiet. For now. Please.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could practically feel the reluctance seeping from between the pursed lips and the narrowed eyes. Every single one of them would be lying if they said they didn’t want that man’s head on a pike but they had to play it smart. They had to make sure they weren’t putting themselves in danger before they could actually do something to rectify this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong opened his mouth to beg for their acknowledgement but before he could even get the words out, the spare key clattered about in the lock and Dongsoo strode over the threshold, slamming the front door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on!” he barked, clapping his hands far too loudly for their ears to comfortably process. “I’m five minutes late so all of you should be ready by now. You have two minutes to get your sorry asses downstairs and in the car.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all leapt to their feet and started gathering their belongings, some of them shooting Taeyong sideways glances as though trying to confirm that he still wanted them to stay silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xuxi looked like he was about to say something but the interim leader grabbed hold of his wrist and squeezed just tight enough to let him know that he had to keep his mouth shut. It was an instinctive action that did not go unnoticed by Dongsoo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold up,” he demanded, throwing out an arm to stop Taeyong from following the others out to the car. “You’re not going.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Taemin spluttered from the doorway. “We’re already missing one member and now you want to cut out another? Taeyong’s perfectly capable of dancing and there’s no chance we can do any of the routines without him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong winced. He was pretty sure that was the opposite of staying quiet. If Dongsoo had given him the look that he was now giving Taemin, he would have withered on the spot and shrunk into a ball in the corner where he could cower with his hands over his head to protect him from further harm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taemin, however, didn’t even blink and Taeyong’s nerves started to spike. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dongsoo wouldn’t dare do something to Taemin with the rest of them watching. Right? He was a coward. A strong and scary coward but a coward nonetheless. He wasn’t brave enough to enact his violence on anyone who wasn’t alone in a room with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just when the tension reached breaking point and Taeyong felt like he was about to burst, Dongsoo turned away from Taemin and once again focused his attention on the true subject of his rage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re staying,” he repeated, jabbing a decisive finger into the centre of Taeyong’s chest. “I can’t have you bumbling around with that botched makeup job. You’re supposed to be the goddamn visual, for fuck’s sake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong just nodded. He knew better than to answer back now, even if the man before him had just insulted his looks and his dancing all in one breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The rest of you, get moving!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others each looked like they wanted to protest, loitering in the doorway and opening and shutting their mouths like goldfish, torn between defending their friend and upholding his wishes. Taeyong shot them his best ‘I’ll be fine’ expression and, at last, they reluctantly followed their manager out into the driveway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door closed and Taeyong sank onto the couch, reaching up to wipe at his face and staring at the smears of makeup that coated the tips of his fingers. He supposed he should have expected Dongsoo to keep him away from anyone who may ask questions about his bruises but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be benched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It could be worse, he told himself. He had a day off and he felt like shit anyway so he could probably just take a nap, do some cleaning and the others would be back before he even realised how lonely he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or…he could break the rules. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It might get him beaten up again but he was trying to convince himself that Dongsoo wouldn’t try to cause him any more injuries. He was clearly determined to keep his extracurricular activities a secret and he was already in trouble now that Taeyong’s face was blackened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could risk it. It would be okay. The manager probably wouldn’t even know he was gone. One quick trip in a taxi, he’d wear a mask, he wouldn’t be more than a couple of hours and then he’d be right back here as if nothing had happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he wanted to break this rule. Even if it was unspoken and dangerous, he needed to break it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to see Baekhyun.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>             He paid the taxi driver with cash. It was a bit of a stretch but he’d heard stories of the company tracking the activity on his senior’s credit cards. It took some asking around and a few very pleading puppy-dog expressions as well as several ID cards proving who he was before somebody told him where to find his hyung. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he was unstoppable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It came as no surprise to him that Dongsoo had ditched Baekhyun in a private room under the pretence of protecting him from prying eyes and potential news outlet informants. In reality, he was probably more interested in making sure his dirty little secret didn’t get out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong kept his ballcap pulled low over his eyes and his mask hiked high up on the bridge of his nose as he knocked on the door. During the conversation that was about to follow, he would have to show Baekhyun his bruises but not as soon as he walked in. That would be too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung?” he called tentatively, edging into the room and pushing the door closed behind him. “Are you awake?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blinds were drawn and the lights were out but he could still make out the vague shape of a person lying beneath the blankets on the only bed in the room. At his words, however, that vague shape began to shift and then a pair of bleary eyes were blinking across at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Taeyong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Taeyong nodded as he padded quickly across the room. “Can I turn the light on?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun hummed in affirmation, grunting slightly as he slotted his elbows beneath his body and jerkily heaved himself into a more upright position against the headboard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong switched on the bedside lamp and the room was immediately illuminated with a dim golden glow that didn’t quite reach into the corners and instead cast shadows across the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made sure he helped Baekhyun situate himself comfortably on a mountain of pillows before he sank into the chair beside the bed, and only then did he take a proper look at his hyung. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last time they’d seen each other, Baekhyun had resembled more of a corpse than a living being. He hadn’t been able to breathe properly by himself, he’d been vomiting blood, screaming in pain and having to be wheeled out of their dorm on a stretcher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Considering all of that, he seemed to be doing a lot better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was still pale and clearly very weak but the IV line in the back of his hand appeared to be supplying him with a decent dosage of pain medication and the stiff rustling hospital gown he was wearing effectively concealed the evidence of his surgery from view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be here,” the patient murmured as soon as Taeyong sat down. “If Dongsoo catches you, he’ll go ballistic.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Taeyong muttered, trying not to picture just how ballistic that man would go if he found out his new scapegoat had once again broken the rules. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay. He’s not letting us contact you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun hummed, “He took my phone and won’t let me open the blinds. He’s also forced every member of staff who even knows I’m here to sign a non-disclosure agreement. He really doesn’t want anyone to find out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t making eye contact, Taeyong realised. He was deliberately avoiding looking up at his dongsaeng and it was also then that Taeyong noticed his hyung’s arm was protectively curled around his stomach, as though reminded of the event that had led him to be here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have appendicitis, did you?” Taeyong asked before he could stop himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way of knowing how much time he had here with Baekhyun before somebody came to throw him out or Dongsoo discovered his treachery. They could waste that time with useless pleasantries or they could talk about what they needed to talk about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his surprise, Baekhyun actually smirked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that the story that’s going around? It makes sense, I suppose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong had thought he would put up more of a façade. Maybe the drugs were keeping his mind in a vortex of soup that prevented any coherency. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did Dongsoo beat you up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was what finally snapped the sense back on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun’s eyes went so wide that they were in danger of bulging out of his head and his gaze zapped to Taeyong’s face at a speed he shouldn’t have been able to harness in his intoxicated condition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, his chapped lips bobbed about in wordless bewilderment before he finally formed the desired syllables, “How did you know that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong felt like his heart was melting. Baekhyun looked so confused, hurt and betrayed, as if he truly had believed that he could take the secret of his abuse to the grave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tightened his grip on his midriff and instantly started blinking away the moisture that suddenly sparked in his tear ducts. It was all Taeyong could do not to start crying along with him because when had this stopped being a job? When had this stopped being something they could enjoy? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When had this begun to morph itself into a living hell? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Taeyong …” Baekhyun croaked, hoisting himself slightly higher on his pillows and fixing his little brother with a gaze so intense it could have burned holes in Taeyong’s skin. “I don’t know what you’ve heard but you can’t just go round saying things like that, okay? You can’t –” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words petered into silence the moment that Taeyong pulled off his cap and tugged down his mask, revealing the mass of swelling beneath his eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was not a kind way to break the truth and nor was it gradual. He might as well have just kicked Baekhyun off a cliff because the poor boy certainly looked as if he was falling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, God …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Taeyong was the one who couldn’t make eye contact, unable to do anything but sit there and stare tearfully down at his lap as Baekhyun’s hand cupped his chin and tilted his face upwards into the light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somebody’s breath hitched. Neither of them was sure whose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did that?” Baekhyun whispered hoarsely, still with his fingers dusting the discoloured skin. “He hit …?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trailed off and Taeyong glanced up at him, worried that he may have suddenly triggered a heart attack or some other equally unpleasant medical emergency that could have been avoided had he not demanded the patient pay attention to his significantly minor injuries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Compared to Baekhyun, he might as well have a paper cut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the cause of his hyung’s sudden silence became clear when his hand vanished from Taeyong’s face and leapt to his neck. Exactly where the indentation of Dongsoo’s fingers were burned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He … He fucking choked you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong didn’t want to talk about it. Not only was it traumatising as hell but it was also completely irrelevant. They were working with borrowed time already and there were things that Taeyong had to know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking hold of Baekhyun’s hand and pulling it away from his throat so he could hold it in his lap and squeeze those fingers for comfort, he shuffled forwards slightly in his seat and levelled his leader with what he hoped was an expression of serious sincerity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have appendicitis, did you?” he repeated, feeling his stomach flip when Baekhyun slowly shook his head. “What did you have?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A ruptured bowel.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was so much worse than Taeyong had been expecting. How much force did it take to actually burst somebody’s internal organs? How many times had Dongsoo kicked or punched his artist in the gut before his abdomen started to fill with blood? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it still hurt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun ignored the question, and that seemed to be as good of an answer as Taeyong was going to get. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do any of the others know?” he demanded by way of a distraction. “Did you tell them what he did to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong nodded, blinking confusedly when his hyung closed his eyes and groaned softly, burying his face in his hands. Apparently, that hadn’t been the response he’d been looking for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me, hyung,” he said, once again grabbing hold of the older boy’s hand so he could be sure he had his full attention. “We’re going to put a stop to this, okay? We’re going to make it so that he never hurts any of us ever again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, the words that were supposed to bring Baekhyun comfort seemed to only spark further stress in his already-straining body. The spike in the heart monitor beside the bed was proof to that theory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll kill me,” he hissed in a whisper, as if frightened that somebody was listening. “I mean it, Taeyong. He will literally kill me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong didn’t want to think about how many times he’d been threatened with that extent of violence for it to be so ingrained in his muscle memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How had it taken the rest of them so long to realise what was going on behind closed doors? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Taemin-hyung’s talking to the company today,” he said, crushing Baekhyun’s hand in a vice when it looked like his leader was about to interject something. “He’s got pictures of … of me … for proof, and if we can get a copy of your medical records then there’s absolutely no way they’ll be able to ignore us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun was staring at him like he’d gone crazy, eyes still occasionally flickering towards the bruises that poisoned Taeyong’s face. It was clear that he was terrified and yet there was also a fizzle of something else hidden there behind the fear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe hope? Taeyong certainly wished it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think you can ask your doctor for a copy of your medical records?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched his leader struggle with whatever internal conditioning had been drilled into him before he let out a long sigh of frustration and scrubbed his free hand over his lined face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean … yeah, I suppose so but, Tae, you … you have no idea what he will do to us if he finds out we went to the company. He knows how to hide things, he knows how to make it look like an accident and he knows how to protect himself. No one can do anything to him and he can do everything to us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t,” Taeyong promised. “He won’t dare try to hurt you while you’re in a hospital and by the time you get out, the rest of us will have gotten him fired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blew out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and glanced down at his hyung’s hand, running his thumbs over the dry skin and the edge of the cannula embedded in his veins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This has to stop, hyung,” he breathed without looking up. “You could have died. And what if he gets angry at Mark next? Or Ten? They’re frailer than we are. Mark’s too young, Ten has too many old injuries. One kick to the knee and his dancing career is over. That’s why this has to end now … before it goes any further.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun sniffed loudly, wiping his nose with the inside of his wrist. Taeyong knew he could never understand the kind of pain he’d been through when his own injuries were so minor, but that was the thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to have to understand. He didn’t want any of his members to have to understand. But if they continued to allow Dongsoo to terrorise them like this, that was exactly what was going to happen. Sooner or later, they would all understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun whispered, pressing his hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to suppress his sobs. “I tried so hard to keep him happy. I tried so hard to be a good leader. I thought he was only ever going to come after me. If I … If I’d known he would hurt you as soon as I was gone … I would’ve … I would’ve done something sooner …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop,” Taeyong begged and his voice cracked horrifically. If he wasn’t so worried about disturbing Baekhyun’s surgery scar, he would have pulled him in for a hug. “Just stop, okay? You’re such a good leader. You’re such a good leader that we didn’t even notice he was abusing you all this time. Hyung, you have nothing to apologise for.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun just shook his head, continuing to shield his sodden face from view. He was going to need a lot of therapy when all of this was over and Dongsoo was out on the street without a job. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong shot a nervous side glance at the clock on the wall and balked when he saw that he’d been in this room for over half an hour already. It wasn’t nearly long enough and he wished he could stay by Baekhyun’s side until he was discharged but the reality wasn’t as luxurious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The reality was that if he didn’t get back to the dorm soon, Dongsoo was going to pick up on the fact that he’d disobeyed a direct order and then there would be hell to pay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung …” he murmured, still clinging to one of his leader’s hands as he tried to convince himself to let go. “I have to leave now but I’m going to give you my phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slid the device from his pocket and pressed it into Baekhyun’s palm, closing his fingers around it just to be safe. It was a risky move but it was the only one he could think of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The passcode is Mark’s birthday. Make sure to keep it on silent and hide it from Dongsoo. When you get your medical report, take a photo and send it to Taemin-hyung, and if you’re in trouble or you just want one of us to come over, call. Okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun nodded but it was still a pitiful sight. Taeyong would rather chew off his own arm than leave him here on his own with nothing to do and no one to talk to but the nurses who’d been told they couldn’t actually make conversation with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be okay,” he lied, rising from his chair and kissing the back of his hyung’s hand by way of goodbye. “We’re all going to be okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be safe,” Baekhyun begged through watering eyes. “Take care of each other.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We will.” Taeyong shoved his cap down over his hair and made sure the majority of his face was covered by his mask. “You taught us how.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giving Baekhyun’s trembling fingers one last squeeze, he left the room, promising himself that by the time that boy was healthy enough to come back to work, Dongsoo would be long gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered as he got into the taxi if Taemin had already spoken to the management team. If he’d showed them the pictures and if they’d actually believed that Dongsoo had been responsible for the injuries Baekhyun had sustained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The company were sloppy. So long as the idols were well enough to perform without faceplanting and therefore were capable of bringing in the money, they couldn’t care less what happened to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If a manager was good at getting them to do what they told then it didn’t matter if he was a little rough during rehearsals. So long as no one ever found out, so long as the information wasn’t leaked to the public, so long as there were no visible injuries to the face or lasting scars, the CEO didn’t give a shit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who knew how many managers like Dongsoo had come through SM Entertainment? Dozens probably. It would have been a lot worse back before there were child safety laws and stuff but that didn’t make it okay. That didn’t make it even remotely okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fished out his keys and shoved them into the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there probably would be more. Many, many more. But not while Taeyong was involved. So long as he was surrounded by a group of people he loved – even if he wasn’t leading those people – he would fight tooth and nail to keep them safe.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping over the threshold, he toed off his shoes and whipped off his hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would fight tooth and nail to keep them away from monsters like –</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was the coffee machine running? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why had somebody turned on the coffee machine while he was out? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was somebody making coffee in his apartment while he wasn’t even here? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was frozen on his doormat, unable to do anything but watch as the intruder poured himself a mug of muddy brown liquid and leaned back against the counter so he could glare at Taeyong over the top of the china rim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keep them away from monsters like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dongsoo raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Care to explain where the hell you’ve been?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To all my American readers and friends, I'm praying for you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>            “Well?” Dongsoo snapped, slamming his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter so hard that a small wave sloshed over the rim. Taeyong flinched. “Speak! Or are you mute as well as deaf?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong needed to say something. He was making himself look weak the longer he continued to stay silent but the mere thought of opening his mouth in front of this man was making him want to run straight back out of the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind was racing at a trillion miles an hour, trying to figure out what lie he was going to tell in order to protect Baekhyun. He couldn’t think of anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What part of ‘stay in the flat’ did you not understand?” Dongsoo shouted, crossing the room in three strides and snatching out a hand to grab Taeyong by the shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I … I …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no voice. He had no words. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His throat was dry as sandpaper. He shouldn’t be this afraid. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t let yesterday’s encounter become a traumatising event and yet traumatised was exactly how he was reacting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo used the grip on his victim’s collar to drag him further into the room, making him stumble in an attempt to keep up and prevent himself from being strangled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer me!” he roared once they made it into the kitchenette, shaking Taeyong so hard that the room span for several moments even after he’d stopped. “Where have you been and why did you think it was okay to disobey me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could practically feel his heart in his head, hammering away in a desperate attempt to pump blood around his floundering body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was drowning in his own fear and every word that made it to his mouth dissipated on the tip of his tongue. Dongsoo’s spit was spraying over his face and the bruises felt like they were throbbing even harder just because they were in the presence of their maker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where! Have! You! Been!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man punctuated each syllable with another shake that made Taeyong feel like his brain was starting to rattle inside of his skull and his neck was going to snap clean in two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t hurt you, he told himself. You’ve already got bruises. He won’t risk getting found out by giving you any more. He can’t hurt you. He won’t hurt you. You’re going to be fine. You’re a grown man. You have to learn to stand up for yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo pulled him so close that their noses were almost touching, his foul breath clawing its way down Taeyong’s throat and suffocating him where he stood. He would have reached up in an attempt to loosen the grip on his shirt but his arms felt like leaden weights hanging by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not make me ask you again,” he growled, and Taeyong shuddered at the sound. “You will not like the consequences.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to say something right now or he was dead. And that might not even be an exaggeration. Dongsoo was so angry that he might very well kill his own artist in a display of impulsive rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to the pharmacy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pharmacy … He could work with that. He could make up a story that went with that. He’d gone to get some concealer, some cream for his bruises and some pain killers. That was it. That was where he’d been. That was easy to believe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So why was Dongsoo looking like he wanted to throttle him right there on the spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you lying to me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Taeyong gasped breathlessly, shaking his head without breaking eye contact for fear that he would set the guy off. “I’m not … I’m not lying … I … Bruise cream and … Pain killers …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was jelly. He couldn’t function properly. He was too afraid to even string together a basic sentence and the only thing he could think about was Dongsoo finding out that he’d been to see Baekhyun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he couldn’t protect himself then he would make sure he protected his hyung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo inhaled, long and slow, nostrils flaring as he did so. Then, surprisingly, he released Taeyong and instead began to smooth down the creases he’d made in the boy’s shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an unexpected act of gentleness and it was unnerving as hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had heard of moments like this being referred to as ‘the calm before the storm’ and he still couldn’t figure out whether or not he preferred it to the unnecessarily rough manhandling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to give you one more chance,” Dongsoo purred, still stroking down the ruffles in the material stretched over Taeyong’s shoulders. “So, tell the truth now, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His touches were soft and almost reassuring but the expression in his eyes told an entirely different story. That one was a tale of warning, a promise of unimaginable pain if the approaching question wasn’t answered to his satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong gulped. He was trembling, sure, and he was paralysed with fear but he wouldn’t allow himself to break eye contact. Dongsoo couldn’t be allowed to know that he was lying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pharmacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong answer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It happened so fast. There wasn’t even time for Taeyong to breathe before a gigantic hand was hooked around the back of his neck and he was forced to bend over the table, Dongsoo slamming him face-first into the polished wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his palms against the surface and tried to push himself back up but the vice remained clenched around his nape, pinning him down and leaving him exposed and vulnerable to whatever kind of attack his assailant had planned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breath had been knocked out of him with the force of the landing and the edge of the table was digging painfully into his hips and he knew he should be struggling but he was frozen. His muscles had locked. He couldn’t see what was going on behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never been more afraid in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo was leaning over him, his weight pressing him harder into the table and the hot bursts of his breath brushing against the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave you a chance and you still chose to lie to me? You know what happens if your fans find out you’re a liar? They’ll want nothing more to do with you. The only reason any of them have stuck around this long is because you’ve got a pretty face, but they won’t hesitate to ditch you in a second if they learn just how ugly your personality is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken Taeyong this long to realise that he was on the verge of hyperventilation. His eyes were burning, his vision was blurred, his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest and his ribs were being crushed beneath his and Dongsoo’s combined weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You … You c-can’t do anything to me,” he choked, fighting for breath even harder than he was fighting the tears. “Y-You’ll get f … fired if you h-hurt me again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo snorted derisively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, kid,” he crooned, and Taeyong shivered as he felt thick fingers running through his hair. “When will you learn that there’s more than one way to teach somebody a lesson?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t get the chance to ask what that meant before the hand vanished from his scalp. The grip remained on his neck, keeping him in place while Dongsoo reached for whatever instrument of torture he was about to use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong panicked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t lying!” he cried, struggling against the anchor on his spine and blinking furiously against the tears that rolled over the bridge of his nose. “I really went to the pharmacist! I had to get some pain killers! I wasn’t lying! I wasn’t –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the wetness before he felt the pain, and he felt the warmth before the scald. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, he wondered if it was just water being poured over his back, soaking through his shirt and pooling on the table beneath him, but then he registered the burning sensation that lit every single one of his nerves on fire and he screamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand on his neck kept him down and no matter how wildly he thrashed or how loudly he pounded his fists against the table in his helplessness, it wouldn’t let him up. It forced him to stay there and endure the torture inflicted upon him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even aware if he was shouting coherent words or if he was just shouting but it did nothing. He couldn’t escape and the pain kept coming and the smell of coffee felt like it was going to drown him and how could there be so much liquid in just one mug? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo didn’t just pour it over one spot, though. His hand travelled up and down his spine, keeping the boiling weapon spread out across the surface area of his back and ensuring that every vertebrae was blanketed with a layer of peeling and blistered skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like an eternity before the cup was finally empty and Dongsoo let go of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By then, Taeyong had exhausted every last ounce of energy in his body. He remained slumped over the table, not wanting to move for fear that it would set his entire torso on fire, bringing his arms up over his head and sobbing shamelessly into the wooden placemat beneath his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs were trembling from the effort of keeping him up but he was too scared to let them give out. If he tried to stand up right now, he would collapse and then he would hit the floor and his burns were ignited at just the thought of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From above, he heard Dongsoo’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, look. One of your members just spilled hot coffee down your back. You guys should really be more careful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he could just pass out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, very slowly, he allowed his legs to bend until his knees touched the tiles, begging them to take his weight. His fingertips were still clinging to the edge of the table and he had his face hidden in the crook of his elbow to hide the evidence of his agony but even that tiny movement had been almost unbearable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still burning. He wondered if it was ever going to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo moved behind him. He could feel the malicious presence looming over his kneeling body and he tried to burrow further into his own arm, searching for protection that he wasn’t going to find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to tell the truth now? Or do I have to make another cup of coffee?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong couldn’t help the sob from spilling free of his lips. It was muffled as he bit down on the inside of his elbow but he knew that Dongsoo heard it clear as a whistle. He was probably chuckling at the misery he’d caused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to the hospital,” Taeyong whimpered, hating himself for being so weak but unable to put himself through another ordeal like that one. “I wanted to see Baekhyun-hyung …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be saying this. Baekhyun was injured and sick and Taeyong was throwing him under the bus to save his own skin. Literally. What kind of friend did that? What kind of bandmate was he that he prioritised himself over his leader? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they didn’t let me in,” he choked, raising his head to be sure Dongsoo heard his words. “They wouldn’t tell me which room he was in. I didn’t … I couldn’t get to him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For far too long, there was absolute silence from the man standing behind him. He briefly wondered if he was even still there or if he’d left the apartment to go and beat Baekhyun to death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loathed the fact that he was hoping it to be true. He loathed the fact that he would rather his manager go after his hyung than stay in this building with him just to do more damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every cell in his body was shrieking in protest. His clothes were soaked, he stank of coffee, he was afraid to even breathe too heavily because everything was fizzling and sputtering inside of him and the threat was still in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to neutralise the burns. He needed to give himself some first aid but he didn’t dare try to move. His only chance of survival right now was to be as submissive and obedient as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d already lost the battle of strength.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the coffee mug shattering upon impact with the floor was enough to have him flinching, the soaked material of his shirt rubbing up against the burns and pulling a strangled cry of anguish from his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo didn’t give him time to recover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrestling the idol’s arms behind his back, he held onto Taeyong’s elbows with one hand, keeping them pinned together and effectively immobilising his hands as well as tugging on the already-damaged skin of his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, with the other hand, he seized a fistful of dyed hair and wrenched his charge’s head back so violently that something popped in his neck and a burst of fire shot down his left arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong couldn’t even find the breath to scream before he was being wrestled away from the table. The hand on his elbows pulled up and the one in his hair pushed down, forcing him to lean forwards until he was on the verge of face-planting into the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo was holding him so tightly that he couldn’t have wriggled even if his body wasn’t screeching in unbearable agony. The position was grotesque, his shoulders were twisted, his spine was curved in a way it shouldn’t be and his knees were throbbing from the effort of taking all his weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But by far the scariest aspect of his newfound predicament was the sea of fragmented china scattered across the tiles in front of him. The jagged pieces of broken mug were barely three inches away from his nose and the only reason he wasn’t falling over to slice his face on them was the grip Dongsoo had on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As badly as he wanted the monster to let go, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get his hands out in front of him in time. If he fell, he wouldn’t just mutilate his own face. He may even lose an eye as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t appreciate being lied to,” Dongsoo hissed right in Taeyong’s ear, hunched over his body just so that he could inflict as much discomfort as possible by breathing on the side of his neck. “And I certainly don’t appreciate being disobeyed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Taeyong choked breathlessly, fighting for every inhale as tears dripped off the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was so close to those broken mug pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My job is to make you the best that you can be,” Dongsoo continued over the sound of his victim’s ragged gasping. “And if I have to hurt you to do that then so be it, but don’t you dare think that you are any better than me. Just because you’re the one in front of the camera, you are not the most important person in this operation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong would have nodded if the grip in his hair wasn’t so tight. He would have done anything to get this guy to just stop what he was doing and let him go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The quicker you learn that I’m the one in charge, the quicker we can stop having these little sessions. Do you understand me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders were going to dislocate. All the skin was going to slough off his back. His spine was going to snap and any minute now, Dongsoo was either going to drop him or thrust his face into the shattered crockery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could no longer see through the tears in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you can whine to your little friends all you want,” Dongsoo whispered, his mouth so close to Taeyong’s ear that he could actually feel the lips brushing his skin. “But the minute you try to sabotage my job … that’s when I’ll stop going easy on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew. He knew what they were doing. He knew Taemin had gone to the higher-ups. Had he caught him before he could step in there? Had he barged into the office and dragged him out? Had he made excuses? Had he convinced the company that his idol was lying? That the photos were fake? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had he hurt Taemin as punishment? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would be nothing without me,” came the shuddering growl, articulated with every puff of hot breath that brushed against Taeyong’s cheek. “I created you. I own you. I can do whatever I like with you. I am in control. Don’t you ever forget that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word, he flung Taeyong aside, sending the boy crashing to the ground just a few inches out of range of the perilous porcelain pool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as Taeyong lay there, unable to move without feeling tendrils of flame licking at every single one of his nerves, the only thing he could think was, thank god he didn’t drop me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo spat on him from above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your next schedule is eight days from now and I don’t want you making any kind of public appearance until then. That means no V-Lives, no tweets, no bubble messages, no selfies. And trust me, kid, you do not want to fuck with me again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong didn’t dare open his eyes, didn’t dare do anything but desperately try to get hold of his pained whimpers. He listened to Dongsoo’s feet thudding against the floor, steps fading away until they vanished altogether along with the slam of the apartment door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only then did Taeyong allow himself to properly cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to know what his back looked like. If the scald was first or second degree. If it was going to scar. If he was going to be permanently disfigured because he thought he was smart enough to make that trip without getting caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stupidity hadn’t just endangered him but it had endangered Baekhyun and Taemin as well. Possibly the others, too. And he had to make sure they were all okay before he even dared to start clearing up the mess he’d made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no one around to hear him crying out in pain as he dragged himself across the floor on his stomach. He didn’t trust his legs to support his weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The landline phone was sitting on top of the counter, too high up, but Baekhyun had his mobile. There was no other option. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he whimpered, biting down on his bottom lip as he reached up to grab hold of the marble structure above him. “Help me … Help me … Please … God …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t actually talking to anybody. He just needed to beg and plead with some unknown entity in order to pull together the strength to haul himself to his knees. He already knew they would bruise by morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could something hurt this much? How could pain like this exist in this world? How was he supposed to endure it when it felt like it was going to sap his life force from his body? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to see what he was doing due to the angle he was at, his hand groped for the phone until finally his fingertips grazed the smooth surface and he was able to get a good enough grip to pull it off the countertop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapsed sideways, curling in on himself and panting heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping his eyes closed, he punched in the numbers, put the device on speaker and then lay it in front of his face so that he wouldn’t have to hold it or use any more muscles than was absolutely necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt. So. Much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he wasn’t lying at the bottom of the stairs in a pool of blood then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taemin-hyung …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, his voice sounded so broken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong? What … Are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. In no way, shape or form was he alright. He was the opposite of alright. He was so far from alright that he was actually coming back round the other side. He wanted his big brother to burst through that door right now and take all the pain away but that wasn’t going to happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead, he grit his teeth and said, “Have you … Have you gone to the management?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I … No, not yet. Taeyong, tell me what’s wrong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Taeyong whispered, feeling the very last dregs of his strength draining away. “Don’t go to them. Don’t show them the pictures. Don’t tell them anything. Just … Just don’t …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong? You’re scaring me. What’s happening?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baekhyun-hyung has my phone … Call him … Make sure he’s okay …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong, wait –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up the phone, closed his eyes and let the darkness claim him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>             He couldn’t have been out for more than a couple of minutes because when he woke up, the phone was still ringing with Taemin’s attempts to get a follow-up. He stank of sweat and coffee and his shirt was slick against his burned back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tiles were cold against his cheek. It would have been a lot easier to just go back to sleep and hide from the pain but he didn’t want the others coming home to find him passed out on the kitchen floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up the phone and switched it off to get rid of the incessant warbling. Taemin would just have to wait until he’d managed to pull himself together before he got an explanation for that alarmingly slurred and worryingly vague warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing up shouldn’t be so hard. It was like his joints had all cemented themselves into place while he’d been unconscious. Every twist and turn of his torso tugged painfully on the raw wounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to bite down on his lip just to stop himself from whimpering like a little kid as he used the counter to heave himself into a vaguely vertical position. By the time he was upright, his eyes were watering and his lip was bleeding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to trade speed for care just so that he could get it over with rather than having to draw it out by trying to save himself from the pain. The trip to the bathroom had never caused him so much agony and he could only hope that it would never do so again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked in the mirror and almost burst into tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were red and blotchy, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were wet and the bruises from the previous day seemed to be standing out even more vibrantly on both his face and his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What kind of visual looked like that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without permitting himself to dwell on the tragic deterioration of his appearance, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and wrenched it up and over his head. He had to bury his fist in his mouth just to muffle the sound of his own scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like every last layer of skin had been filleted away from his muscles and the sheer intensity of the pain was enough to make his knees weak. If he hadn’t been clinging to the sink with his other hand, he probably would have collapsed onto the bathmat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swatting at the moisture in his eyes and blinking back the tears that tried to replace it, he very slowly pivoted on the spot so that he was facing away from the mirror. He took a deep breath, he braced himself and he looked over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he actually did whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole of his back was coloured a bright and brilliant red. The site of the burn stretched from the base of his neck to just above his waist in length and roughly two inches either side of his spinal cord in width. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the edges, the skin was ruffled as if it had been trying to recoil, curling up into oozing rolls. The entire wound was weeping and open and every time a breath of air passed by it, it was like he was being drenched in boiling hot coffee all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know much about burns. He wasn’t sure if it would scar. Even if it did, there was nothing that he could do about it now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bending down to take his jeans off would just make the pain start afresh and so he didn’t bother removing any more of his clothes before he stepped into the shower. He braced one of his forearms against the cubicle wall and bit down on the meat of his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no escaping the fact that this was going to hurt like a fucking bitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screwing his eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to deny the harsh reality of his situation, he twisted the temperature dial to the coldest setting and then turned on the faucet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all he could do not to pass out on the spot. His other arm shot up to help him steady himself as his legs once again threatened to fold beneath his weight and he could feel his teeth tearing into his muscle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The muffled scream echoed in the bathroom acoustics, seemingly bouncing off the walls and reverberating straight back just to mock him with the sound of his own anguish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’d told the truth in the first place, would Dongsoo have gone this far? Or would he have still chosen to torture him as punishment for breaking the rules? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was trying to tell himself that he’d been protecting Baekhyun by lying but it was hard to believe it when he was on the verge of losing consciousness due to the fire that encompassed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his face buried in his shoulder and allowed the sound of the water pounding against the porcelain floor to smother his sobs. Crying in the shower may be pathetic but at least nobody could see him while he did it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In order to properly neutralise the burn, he should stay beneath the freezing jet for at least ten minutes but it had barely been two and already he was sinking to his knees just to save himself from passing out and hitting his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought of Baekhyun maybe having to endure this exact same torture all on his own while the rest of them slept peacefully in their beds without a care in the world. He thought of Mark or Ten being forced into this position at some point in the future if their leader failed to protect them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo had to go. There was no doubt about that. But they had to wait a little longer, just until they’d gathered enough evidence to make it impossible for the company to turn them away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they would have to hold on, just for a little longer. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please go support my partner account Survivor4Life (the person who wrote Bring Them Home if you've read that). They've just started a new Chenle-centric fic and it's really good so go show them some love for me 😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Taeyong had no idea how he managed to get himself out of the shower without dying from the excruciating sensation that engulfed him. He just knew that he’d somehow wriggled out of his jeans and changed into a pair of sweats and the softest, largest T-Shirt he could find. </p><p>It hung off his skeletal frame, making him look ten times skinnier than he really was, but so long as it wasn’t sticking to the weeping wounds, he couldn’t care less. </p><p>Dongsoo had done a good job, though. It did look like somebody had spilt hot coffee down his back and it was true that they didn’t have a schedule for another week. He’d known that his victim would have time to heal enough to be able to dance as if nothing was wrong. </p><p>He didn’t want to think about how frantic Taemin would be by now since he was unable to get hold of the person who’d probably sounded like they were losing their life force on the other end of the phone earlier. </p><p>They would be back here as soon as Dongsoo allowed them to and when they arrived, Taeyong already knew what he was going to do. </p><p>He was far too drained – physically and emotionally – to tell the others what happened while they were gone. They would get angry, concerned, overprotective and they would want to take care of him when all he really wanted was to lie down and never get up again. </p><p>He would tell them. He wasn’t trying to lie to them. He just wouldn’t be able to tell them today. </p><p>Taemin was a different story, though. He was already aware that something was wrong and there was absolutely no chance of Taeyong being able to run from that. The only comfort was that he knew his senior would keep his mouth shut if he asked him to. </p><p>Plus, he needed someone to take the photographs. </p><p>When the front door finally opened and his members spilled over the threshold, he was on his knees on the kitchen floor, painstakingly gathering every last fleck of broken china into his palm. The stench of coffee was still heavy in the air and sickening to breathe. </p><p>“Hyung?” </p><p>Ten was the first to speak, starting towards his leader only to freeze in place when Taeyong threw up a warning hand, indicating that he should stay back or else he could cut himself on one of the many jagged fragments. </p><p>He didn’t even have the strength to speak. </p><p>“Taeyong?” Jongin interjected as he dropped his rucksack from his shoulder. “What happened?” </p><p>“A mug broke,” Taeyong rasped. It wasn’t necessarily a lie but his voice still sounded like sandpaper grating against a blackboard. “Keep your shoes on until I’ve cleaned it up.” </p><p>He hadn’t realised just how tired he was until he could feel every last pair of eyes in the apartment fixed on where he was kneeling, barefoot and shrivelled, amid a pool of cold coffee and shattered porcelain. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>A hand appeared on his shoulder, just to the left of the burn. Another inch and his lie would have been over before it’d truly begun. He didn’t look up – moving his neck too quickly sent flickers of flame down his spine – but he could sense Taemin’s presence crouching down at his side. </p><p>“Let the kids do that,” he murmured, setting the dustpan on the floor so he could coax Taeyong into dropping the broken mug. “Come with me.” </p><p>Taeyong had never been so thankful not to be one of the eldest in his group. The fact that he had Taemin here to take over and do the things that a hyung should was comforting beyond words. </p><p>He neither had the strength nor the willpower to utter a word of refusal and instead permitted Taemin to wrap a gentle grip around his upper arm. They moved slowly and he briefly wondered if the older boy knew what was hidden beneath his oversized T-Shirt, but then he felt the hand on the small of his back. </p><p>No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fight the sharp shout of agony that ripped its way through his vocal cords and he would have fallen right back onto his knees if it weren’t for Jongin leaping forwards and catching him beneath the arms from the front. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Taemin whispered, immediately withdrawing his hand from the poisoned spot. “I won’t touch your back. I promise.” </p><p>Taeyong could only gasp, his forehead pressed against the spot just beneath Jongin’s collarbone and his chest heaving with the effort of breathing through the pain. He didn’t allow himself to think about how worriedly the others would be watching him right now. </p><p>“Is there anywhere else?” Taemin murmured in his ear, too quietly for anybody but Taeyong and Jongin to hear. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” </p><p>“No …”</p><p>“Can you walk?” </p><p>“… Yes.” </p><p>He was too humiliated to raise his head. He simply allowed Taemin and Jongin to position themselves on either side of him, holding tight to his arms in case he were to fall as they practically dragged him towards the bedroom. </p><p>There must have been some kind of conversation on their way over here because the others didn’t say a word. Taeyong wouldn’t have been surprised if Taemin had told them to stay back and stay quiet so the “adults” could “handle” this. </p><p>“On your stomach?” Taemin asked him once they’d reached the bed, and Taeyong just nodded as he got himself situated in as comfortable a position he could find. “Jongin, can you go make sure the kids are okay?” </p><p>Taeyong didn’t need to look to know that Jongin was giving the senior member of their group his best reluctantly pleading expression. Thankfully, though, Taemin seemed to be having none of it and a second later, the door was shut and it was just the two of them left in the room. </p><p>The pillow was so unbelievably soft beneath Taeyong’s cheek. He slid his arms underneath it to prop his head up just a little and found himself asking why he hadn’t just gone to bed as soon as he’d gotten out of the shower. </p><p>If it weren’t for the excruciating agony threatening to overwhelm him, he would have fallen asleep in less than a minute. </p><p>As it were, he kept his eyes open so he could see Taemin crouching down beside his head. He didn’t want to think about how he must look right now. </p><p>“Can you tell me what he did?” </p><p>Technically, he could. He just didn’t want to describe how he’d broken the one rule Dongsoo had set for him, put Baekhyun at risk, lied to his monster manager’s face and gotten himself burned in the process. It was too tiring to even think about. </p><p>So, he settled for a simple, “You’re going to need to take pictures.” </p><p>The look on Taemin’s face said it all but, much to Taeyong’s relief, he kept his mouth shut as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. His eyes flickered to his dongsaeng’s back as if he could see through the material and he visibly swallowed. </p><p>“You need help getting your shirt off?” </p><p>“Just lift it up,” Taeyong whispered hoarsely, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. “Don’t try to take it off.” </p><p>“Okay. Tell me to stop if you need to.” </p><p>It was better and easier for both of them if Taeyong just pretended to be asleep. Then he wouldn’t have to see the devastation in Taemin’s expression when he found out what was beneath that layer of cotton and Taemin wouldn’t have to worry about hiding his emotions from view. </p><p>Taeyong’s body fought the urge to shiver when the hem of his shirt was cautiously lifted and pulled right up to the back of his neck, exposing the magnitude of the injury to its full extent. </p><p>There was a very, very long pause. </p><p>“I’m gonna kill him,” Taemin breathed, sounding shocked to his very core. “I’m actually gonna –”</p><p>“Please don’t say anything,” Taeyong cut him off without opening his eyes. “Please just take the pictures and don’t say anything. I can’t talk about it right now.” </p><p>He heard the fury that escaped along with Taemin’s sigh but no further words were spoken and the only sound that could be heard was the faint click of the camera shutter. </p><p>“I’m going to get the burn cream, okay?” </p><p>Taeyong nodded into the pillow, still keeping his eyes firmly squeezed shut in the hopes that it would hide the tears from view. He could feel the moisture starting to gather between his lashes. Having his back exposed to the open air was indescribably painful. </p><p>“I know what you’re going to say,” Taemin murmured as he returned, closing the door softly behind him. “But I’m going to ask you anyway. Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?” </p><p>“What would they do for me there that we can’t do here?” Taeyong grunted back. “I can’t risk any of this getting out.” </p><p>Taemin’s sigh could have been heard from space and Taeyong wished he could just pass out or dissolve into the pillow. He hadn’t realised it was possible to fuck up this badly but he had no one to blame other than himself. </p><p>If he hadn’t been so arrogant, if he’d just done what he was told, this wouldn’t have happened and Taemin wouldn’t be having to deal with it right now. The soft pop of the cap told him that his pain was about to increase tenfold and he prepared himself for the wave of agony that was about to wash over him. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” was the only warning he got before his nerve endings exploded. </p><p>The skin was so raw that even the brush of Taemin’s cream-coated fingertip was enough to send a trillion tiny needles drilling into his spine. He thrust his fist into his mouth just to stop himself from shrieking bloody murder but he could barely breathe. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry … I’m going as quick as I can,” came Taemin’s guilt-stricken mumblings from above him as the finger of terror continued to dab at the sorest spots. “Just think of something else.” </p><p>What else was there to think about when his body was ablaze? His mind was physically incapable of conjuring up something that wasn’t related to the inexplicable excruciation firing up and down his torso. </p><p>His feet twitched, his legs threatened to kick out, he had to resist the urge to reach backwards with the hand he wasn’t biting down on and shove Taemin away from him. His body was going into fight-or-flight mode and suddenly Dongsoo’s voice filled his head.  </p><p>
  <em>I created you. I own you. I can do whatever I like with you. I am in control. Don’t you ever forget that.</em>
</p><p>Taeyong cried out, whether in fear or pain he didn’t know, but it was enough to have Taemin retracting his hands in an instant. </p><p>“Are you –?” </p><p>Taeyong didn’t give him a chance to finish. He fought to get his hands beneath him and pushed himself up onto his knees, allowing his shirt to fall back over the burn despite how painful and sticky and unpleasant it felt. </p><p>
  <em>I created you. I own you. I can do whatever I like with you. I am in control. Don’t you ever forget that.</em>
</p><p>That man was in his thoughts. His face was flashing in front of his eyes. It was the first time Taeyong was realising that what had happened to him was cold-blooded torture and, in doing so, he was cementing Dongsoo’s image at the forefront of his mind. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe. </p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut again to try and fend off the intrusive memories. He curled his fingers into the bed covers beneath him to remind himself that it was a mattress he was kneeling on and not the unforgiving kitchen tiles. </p><p>Tears dribbled off the tip of his nose. He was sobbing. Loudly. </p><p>It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He’d never asked for this. He hadn’t signed up for this. When he’d signed that contract all those years ago, never once had it stated that he would be beaten and burned every time he made a mistake. </p><p>He was a leader and a hyung. He was supposed to be the strong one. He was supposed to be protecting the kids but he was the one crying on his knees because his manager had burrowed underneath his skin and was refusing to come out. </p><p>What if the company’s other managers started to learn from this one? What if 127’s progressed from just a couple of slaps to full-on punches that left Donghyuck and Jungwoo with black eyes or Yuta and Doyoung with broken ribs and internal bleeding? </p><p>What if … What if Dream … He couldn’t permit himself to think about it. If he allowed the image of Jisung bent over a table as some monster poured boiling hot coffee over his back, he would break down completely. </p><p>“Taeyong …” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, bringing up his fists to cover his tear-streaked face. “I shouldn’t be like this. I’m sorry. Just give me a minute. I promise. Just a minute.” </p><p>“You can have longer than a minute,” Taemin breathed in his ear, one of his hands combing soothing tracks over Taeyong’s scalp as he took a seat on the bed beside him. “You can have as long as you need.” </p><p>It was another few moments before Taeyong felt secure enough to lower his fists but he kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see his hyung’s expression of pity. He was ashamed enough of his little outburst as it was without having to be looked at like he was broken. </p><p>“I know you don’t want to seek professional help but I’m letting you know now that if this doesn’t heal exactly how the textbook says it should, we’re going to a doctor.” </p><p>He nodded again. It seemed to be the only thing he was capable of doing now that his words had abandoned him just when he needed them the most. </p><p>They were going to have to discuss this. He knew that Taemin wouldn’t push him to do it now if he wasn’t ready but he would rather have a calm conversation with his hyung than be forced into a meeting with the rest of the members tomorrow morning. </p><p>“Tell me what happened.” </p><p>It was a direction but not an order. It was telling him what to do without giving him absolutely no option to refuse. Taemin knew that right now his little brother needed gentle yet firm guidance instead of open-ended questions that he didn’t know how to answer. </p><p>“I went to see Baekhyun-hyung,” Taeyong admitted shamefully. “I was worried and I thought I could get back before Dongsoo noticed I was gone.” </p><p>He heard Taemin’s soft exhalation and felt like it touched his very soul. If it was possible for a person to wither in embarrassment, he would have already done so a thousand times over. </p><p>“Hyung said it wasn’t appendicitis. It was a ruptured bowel from Dongsoo kicking him.” </p><p>“Fuck …” </p><p>Yeah, that about summed it up. </p><p>“I gave him my phone since his was confiscated and I wanted him to be able to call us if anything happened. I wasn’t even gone that long but when I got back, Dongsoo was waiting for me and … he …” </p><p>God, why was it so hard to speak? He wasn’t a fragile little flower. He’d been knocked around before. He’d been choked to the point of near unconsciousness just the other day. He shouldn’t be so timid when it came to this. </p><p>“He asked me where I’d been and I lied because I didn’t want to get Baekhyun-hyung in trouble but he could tell. He threw me over the table and poured hot coffee over my back. He said that if I tried to go to a hospital, it would just look like someone had spilt a drink down me. Then he smashed the mug, held my hands behind my back and forced my face down until I was close enough to cut myself on the broken bits.” </p><p>The hand in his hair faltered momentarily as he talked about the coffee but Taemin recovered his composure quickly enough to continue with his comforting administrations and Taeyong was secretly thankful. </p><p>Being touched by somebody who wasn’t intending to cause him harm was a nice feeling. </p><p>“What else?” </p><p>“Nothing,” he reassured his senior. “He just threw me on the floor, told me not to forget that he was in charge of us and left. I took a shower and started to clean up and that was when you guys came back.” </p><p>“And when did you call me?” </p><p>He’d completely forgotten about that. He must have been so close to the brink of unconsciousness that it had just slipped his mind. He couldn’t even remember if he’d put the phone back on its cradle before he’d passed out on the kitchen floor. </p><p>“Just before I had the shower. I was scared that he would hurt one of you or that he would go for Baekhyun-hyung or come back for me if you told the company. I …” His voice cracked and he had to clear his throat before he continued. “I still want to report him but I just … I …” </p><p>“You’re not ready,” Taemin finished for him, nodding understandingly as he continued to thread his spindly fingers through Taeyong’s dyed strands. “I get that. We can wait.” </p><p>“Just until Baekhyun-hyung’s out of the hospital,” Taeyong begged, finally looking up at his hyung just to be sure that he was getting his point across. “Just until he’s healthy enough.”</p><p>He didn’t want to believe that Dongsoo would deliberately want to cause any of them long-lasting harm when his position was already precarious enough. Taeyong had a black eye and bruises on his throat from being strangled. That was difficult to explain as it was. </p><p>If the company started to string together all the injuries that their artists had sustained while in this man’s care then Dongsoo’s job could be put in serious jeopardy, which was exactly what they wanted. </p><p>But not too soon. There was no way of knowing what that monster would do if he was fired. He could go ballistic, start seeking revenge. If Baekhyun was still weak and bed-bound then he would be the prime target and they couldn’t let that happen. </p><p>They had to wait. Just long enough for all of them to be as back to peak condition as it was possible for them to get. Then – and only then – could they tell the company what had been happening to them. </p><p>“I understand what you’re saying,” Taemin acknowledged even if he didn’t look like he agreed. </p><p>He was probably itching to have Dongsoo thrown out onto the streets as soon as he could but at least he seemed to recognise that what Taeyong was saying made sense. </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Taemin muttered, averting his eyes as he reached once more for the bottle of burn cream. “Lie down. I need to finish your back.”</p><p>Taeyong would have been lying through his teeth if he’d said that the thought wasn’t daunting but for some reason it was easier this time to settle himself on his stomach with his arms folded beneath his head. </p><p>Maybe it was the relief of knowing that everybody he loved was currently safe and secure, that no one was suddenly going to go on a vengeful rampage and try to wring Dongsoo’s neck. </p><p>He closed his eyes as Taemin lifted his shirt but his exhaustion dragged him down into the depths of darkness before he had a chance to feel any more than the first sting. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please go support my partner account Survivor4Life (the person who wrote Bring Them Home if you've read that). They've just started a new Chenle-centric fic and it's really good so go show them some love for me :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>           Talking to the others the following morning was certainly not an easy task, but he got through it and they reacted exactly how he needed them to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night hadn’t been great. He’d awoken several times due to the incapacitating agony and it had taken far too long to get back to sleep. He’d removed his shirt completely at some point to stop it from rubbing against the wounds and he’d never particularly liked sleeping on his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taemin had stayed with him the entire time. Sometimes Taeyong’s short gasps or pained shuffles woke him up and he would always offer some slurred comforts for as long as it took for either him or his dongsaeng to return to the land of the dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, neither of them got the rest that they should have done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The burn had started trying to close itself up, a very thin layer of scaly scar tissue managing to harden over the exposed skin. The slightest twist or touch would tear it as easily as wet paper but it was a relief to know that it was at least attempting to heal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was that Taeyong couldn’t really walk with it clinging to his back like some kind of glued-on accessory. Every move he made felt as if it was going to rip the new scab and even something as simple as taking a few steps was enough to have him wincing in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo had most definitely known what he was doing when he’d decided to cause as much suffering as possible without rendering his victim unable to perform ever again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each one of the others had looked as if they’d wanted to ask what was hidden beneath his over-sized clothes but they’d kept their mouths shut and sat obediently as Taeyong explained what he and Taemin had talked about last night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xuxi was quite clearly furious. Mark was refusing to make eye contact and Ten was fidgeting violently with his hands in his lap. Taeyong found it difficult to even get the words out when they were all looking so small and breakable but, with Taemin’s help, he succeeded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just have to be especially careful for the next week or so,” he told them. “We don’t have another schedule for a while anyway so as long as we stay out of his way and do everything that we’re told to do, he won’t have a reason to get mad at us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated that he was allowing the reign of terror to continue. He had the ability to put a stop to it right now, before anything else could go wrong and anyone else could get hurt, but he was choosing to stay silent and, in doing so, forcing his members to continue living in fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I called Baekhyun-hyung this morning,” Jongin piped up from the couch. Taeyong’s eyes widened slightly but his hyung was quick to elaborate. “I didn’t tell him what happened to you. I just wanted to make sure he was okay and he’s fine. He asked for a copy of his medical records, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Taemin murmured absently as he stroked his thumb back and forth over Taeyong’s thigh. “With those, all of our testimonies and the photographs, the company will have to listen to us. We just have to wait until Baekhyun-hyung’s discharged.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong glanced around the room in an attempt to ascertain the emotional headspace of each of his kids. Xuxi’s jaw was clenched still. Ten was looking smaller and smaller by the minute, and Mark was just staring off into space as if somebody had switched off his power supply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s going to happen,” Taeyong spoke up. “He knows he can’t do anything else because then there’ll be too much evidence against him. Nothing’s going to happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even as they all nodded their understanding, he couldn’t help but think that he’d thought exactly the same thing before and then he’d ended up pinned to a table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a few more days,” Taemin pitched in, adding extra support to Taeyong’s assurances. “Baekhyun-hyung will be discharged by the end of the week and then we can all go to the management team together. Until then, we just have to keep our heads down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We just have to be submissive. Those were the words that Taeyong heard. We just have to play along like the good little boys they want us to be so that none of us gets another bruise or burn, ends up nearly faceplanting into a sea of broken china or vomiting blood into a toilet bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong hated Dongsoo. He hated him for what he’d done to every single one of them. He hated that people like him were even allowed into a job like this. He hated that he couldn’t scream the man’s crimes to the world, sit back and watch him burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated that he was so powerless when he’d had every opportunity to stand up for himself and his group and put an end to this abuse before it put any of them in the hospital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll play the game,” Xuxi mumbled after several seconds of silence. “But I can’t make any promises. If he tries anything again …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t come to that,” Taeyong insisted even though he could recognise that he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than any of them. “So long as we do what he wants us to do and stay on his good side, everything will be fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten huffed, “I’m not sure he has a good side.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe, if the situation wasn’t so bleak, they would have laughed.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>              Taeyong healed slowly. Over the course of the next five days, the burn on his back went from exposed, raw and excruciating to slightly less exposed, slightly less raw but only marginally less excruciating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skin had finally managed to scab over, and just in time, too, because Taemin was starting to get very pushy about going to a hospital. It was still difficult to move, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every menial task was double the effort it used to be and he was always terrified that just bending down would have him feeling his spine split in two. When he walked, he looked like an old man and he blamed it on his old herniated disc but nobody believed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter though. The amount of pain he was in, the discomfort that feathered every step he took … None of that was important so long as he and the others got to stay as far away from Dongsoo as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because their schedule had been put on temporary hold, there were no mandatory practises or recording sessions. They danced, used the gym and rehearsed the lines when they wanted to, without a six-foot monster breathing down their necks every second of every day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo seemed to have some other work to do as well because his presence at the studio was suddenly a lot scarcer. Not that anyone was complaining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong often found himself sitting on the couch in the corner of the practise room, watching the others go over the routines without being able to participate. It hurt. Not just physically, but emotionally. If he couldn’t dance, he might as well be dead, but he told himself that it was only temporary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His back would heal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kept their heads down, their mouths shut, their eyes averted and, as a result, their bodies unbruised. There were some days that they didn’t even see Dongsoo and when they did, he was business-like and professional and they gave him no reason to change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was still waiting though. Baekhyun contacted them every night to reassure them that he was doing okay and that the doctors were talking about discharging him soon. He had a copy of his medical files at the ready, hidden under his pillow to ensure that Dongsoo didn’t find out his artists were plotting behind his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Taeyong found himself itching with impatience, not just to have his hyung home and healthy but to be able to confront the company with the proof that they’d hired an abusive manager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hoped that what they had – pictures of his black eye, the fingerprints on his neck, the burns on his back and written documentation of Baekhyun’s internal injuries – would be enough to get that bastard booted out of their lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the day before their leader was due to sign the discharge papers that everything went to shit, and absolutely nobody saw it coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin and Xuxi had decided to hit the gym, as if either of them needed to gain any more muscle mass, and Taemin was visiting Minho in the military for the last time before he would be returning to civilian life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong and Mark had agreed to monitor one of Ten’s dances so they could provide him with feedback and constructive criticism but as the two of them watched that boy’s body moving over the floor as if it was made of water, it was hard to think of a single negative thing to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were both at the top of the list when it came to NCT’s best performers but it was undeniable that Ten and Taeyong both danced in completely different ways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had a shorter history with the art form. He’d only really started when he’d become a trainee and the coaching he’d received had almost exclusively revolved around hip-hop or B-boying. The typical idol standards, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten, however, had been dancing since before he could walk. It was like another language to him and one that he spoke with effortless fluency. Not only could he do virtually everything that Taeyong could but he also had a background in ballet and contemporary and probably more that he’d just never brought up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also had no bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong would never get tired of watching him move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” the artist panted once he’d cut the music off and brushed his sweat-sodden fringe back from his face. “I’m still not sure about the middle eight section and I know that the last few counts could use a bit of work but …” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, hands on his hips, staring expectantly. Taeyong sent a sideways glance at Mark and smirked at the sight of the dumbstruck expression on the kid’s face. He couldn’t have said it any better himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t change a thing,” the youngest declared. “It’s perfect just the way it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten narrowed his eyes in an exasperated glare and quickly turned his attention to Taeyong, “Hyung?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Ten,” Taeyong laughed. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. It’s stunning. It couldn’t possibly be any better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He understood Ten’s desire for judgement. As idols and just people in general, they were always looking for ways to improve, to become the best that they could possibly be, but sometimes there really was no further they could climb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten accepted defeat with a groan, flopping down beside his members and gratefully taking the water bottle that Mark handed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong felt his phone vibrate against his thigh and, as if on cue, his stomach gave a loud grumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The delivery guy just got here,” he told the others, bracing his hand against the mirror behind him and preparing to push himself to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get it,” Mark hastened to interject. “Don’t get up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would have been a lie if Taeyong had said that he wasn’t secretly relieved. His back felt unusually tight and uncomfortable today and he’d been dreading the moment when he would have to leave the comfort of the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t mean it wasn’t embarrassing to have his little brothers running around after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still that bad?” came Ten’s exhausted mumble from beside him. He had his head lolling tiredly against the mirror, the half-empty water bottle pressed to his cheek and his eyes closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong couldn’t suppress a sigh, “It’s getting better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I asked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no winning with that kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Taeyong divulged. “It’s still that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without opening his eyes or removing the improvised cold compress from his face, Ten reached across the space between them with his free hand and interlocked his spindly fingers with Taeyong’s. He squeezed and Taeyong squeezed back and neither of them said another word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be over soon, Taeyong told himself. Baekhyun would be home tomorrow and then they could report their findings to the higher-ups. Then they could get rid of Dongsoo forever and they would never have to feel this way again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark took a little longer than expected to return but, eventually, he came scuttling into the studio with the plastic bags swinging from his arms and the sweet smell of meat floating around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They forgot the soy sauce,” he supplied as a reason for his idling. “I stopped by the kitchens and borrowed a bottle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong smirked fondly as the kid sat down in front of him and started unpacking the variety of dishes they’d ordered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong tried to lean forwards slightly and cross his legs beneath him so that he could reach better without wincing in pain, but the pull on his skin refused to allow the movement to go without at least a grimace of discomfort flashing across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both his friends seemed to notice and, without saying anything, they shifted the boxes a little closer to him so that he wouldn’t have to reach across a space too large to have access to anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was too hungry to feel properly embarrassed. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of enjoying a freshly warm takeaway in the company of the people he loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Mark,” Ten scoffed, holding up the 1 litre bottle of soy sauce that Mark had scrounged from the kitchens. “Are you sure you got enough of this stuff?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong glanced over at Mark. The boy already had a mouthful of crispy duck, causing his cheeks to bulge comically like a hamster’s, and it didn’t help that his eyes were also about as wide as tennis balls as he mumbled a muffled reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like soy sauce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark and his soy sauce was a better love story than Romeo and Juliet. Ten and his soy sauce, however, was a rivalry that would have done well as a sub plot of Macbeth. That kid hated the stuff more than he hated fruit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, maybe not that much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong just chuckled at his children’s antics. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat back and watched as they’d just gotten a chance to be kids. With everything that had happened in the last few weeks, all the playfulness and immaturity seemed to have been washed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each of them had their childhood snatched when they became trainees. They were forced to abandon their social lives, delete most of their contacts with the outside world, banned from dating and bullied into working like dogs day and night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was why, once they’d debuted, there’d been a little explosion of all that youth they hadn’t been able to experience before. Fans liked to see them happy and they liked to be happy and the fact that their names were out there protected them from the company’s backlash. Most of it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong pinched a thick chunk of meat in between his chopsticks, already salivating slightly at the thought of being able to chew and swallow something so heavenly, but he never even got to touch it with his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slammed open just as the morsel was approaching his mouth and he whipped around to see his worst nightmare falter in the doorway, take in the sight before him and then don the most withering glare any man had ever known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck do you three think you’re doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong froze. The meat slipped from his chopsticks and landed back in the plastic tub with a soft splash of sauce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to get his lips to form the words he needed but it was like someone had paralysed him. His chest was suddenly alarmingly tight, his breath felt like it was fighting its way into his lungs through a straw and the fading bruises on his face and throat throbbed in warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is what he’d been most afraid of: that when confronted with Dongsoo again, he would be rendered mute with terror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories of his most recent encounter were fresh in his mind, accosting his fight or flight instincts with the reminder of how painful it had been to have that coffee poured over him as he lay pinned to the table with no way to escape.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We ordered takeout,” Ten announced, clearly having picked up on his hyung’s inability to function as a leader. “It’s not against the rules.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If alarm bells weren’t blaring in Taeyong’s head before, they most certainly were now. Ten shouldn’t be speaking back to this man, and especially not with that tone. It was so obvious that he was getting defensive and Dongsoo would pounce on him the moment he recognised it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The manager strode forwards, the heaviness of his footfalls making the floor shake, and Mark subconsciously shuffled a little closer to Taeyong, as though he were searching for protection that Taeyong was too cowardly to give. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to say something. He needed to diffuse this situation before it could escalate into anything more. They were so close. Baekhyun was coming home tomorrow. They were just hours away from getting this man removed from their lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo stopped. He towered over them, eyes flashing and arms folded across his broad chest in a distinct gesture of disapproval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I need to remind you,” he growled. “That there’s a comeback next month? And the three of you think it’s okay to stuff your faces with all this junk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s going to hurt us, was the only thought that occupied Taeyong’s mind as he stared up at the man standing over him. He’s going to kill us. He’s going to kill us. He’s going to kill us. He’s going to kill us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten opened his mouth and only then did Taeyong find the presence of mind to move. He lashed out and snatched Ten’s hand up in a grip so tight that the boy hissed in pain. But he kept his mouth shut and that was the only thing that mattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m scared. I’m scared. He’s going to kill us. I can’t do this. I can’t go through this again. I hate him. I’m scared. I hate him. I hate him. He’s going to kill us. I’m scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo’s dangerous gaze flashed to Ten and Taeyong’s interlocked fingers and a knowing smirk twisted his ugly face. He was fully aware of why Taeyong was trying to keep the others quiet and he was proud of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was proud that he instilled that much fear in three grown men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, whose was this bright idea?” he demanded, and Taeyong’s blood ran cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his. He’d been the one to suggest it. He’d been the one to contact the delivery company. If Dongsoo checked his phone, he would find the messages from the fast food place and there would be absolutely nothing Taeyong could do or say that would save him the punishment of breaking the rules. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t even been aware that this was a rule, though. He knew they were supposed to maintain low body weights for the sake of their images but they’d ordered takeout before and it had been fine. All the other artists in the building did it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They should have been allowed to do this. They should have gotten away unscathed. They shouldn’t be in so much trouble and they shouldn’t be facing potentially permanently disfiguring injuries now because of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a comeback in a month. They had an interview at the weekend. There was no way Dongsoo would hurt them. There was no way he’d risk it. There was … There was … There was no … Oh, god … He’s going to … They can’t stop him … He’s going to hurt … </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Taeyong’s mouth wasn’t drier than the Sahara, he would have choked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was my idea,” Ten said, lifting his chin and straightening his shoulders as if challenging his manager to contradict him. “We’ve been practising all day, we’ve burned probably a couple of hundred calories and we deserved a treat for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong gaped at him. Was he nuts? Had he completely lost his mind? Why was he lying to this man? Why was he willingly throwing himself into the firing line? Dongsoo could smell dishonesty from a mile away. That was why Taeyong’s skin had been scalded off. He wasn’t going to fall for this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had to tell the truth now before they were punished for lying as well as greed. He needed to let Dongsoo know that he was the one who was responsible for this. Not Ten. He needed to protect Ten because right now Ten was protecting him and that wasn’t the way it should be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No … I …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was my idea,” Ten repeated firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t remove his eyes from Dongsoo’s face but he dug his fingernails into the back of Taeyong’s hand and crushed the bones in his fiercest death grip. It was a warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keep your mouth shut and let me take this bullet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the longest time, there was absolute silence. Taeyong could hear the blood rushing in his head and his heart thumping in his throat. Mark was pressed into his side now, desperately trying to make himself as small as possible while Ten was shamelessly bearing himself to the enemy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t he afraid? Hadn’t he seen the damage that Dongsoo could do? Why wasn’t he even trembling? Why was Taeyong ever labelled as a leader when Ten was obviously so much braver? Would any of this have even happened if Ten had been given charge in Baekhyun’s absence instead? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Dongsoo chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you should be allowed to eat,” he crooned in a voice so smooth and buttery it set Taeyong’s teeth on edge. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. “You boys work hard after all. I’m only being cautious in your best interests. I wouldn’t want you to ... I don’t know … look fat in front of your fans or anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark sucked in a sharp breath of shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a low blow. Every member of staff who worked with NCT was briefed on this before they came into contact with the idols themselves. They were told what they couldn’t do and what they couldn’t say and they had to abide by it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Managers were permitted to police their diets and make occasionally forceful recommendations on how much the artists should be eating but they were never – NEVER – allowed to call an idol fat. Never. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially not Ten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten was the reason that rule was put in place to begin with. Ten was the one who’d become so obsessed with body image and being as thin as possible that he’d wound up on a feeding tube at the hospital barely two years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way Dongsoo didn’t know that. He was attacking Ten where he was most vulnerable and it was sickening to watch the boy’s skin suddenly go several shades paler as a muscle bulged in his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong should be saying something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on then,” Dongsoo continued, and he had the nerve to seat himself on the floor beside them. “Don’t stop on my account. Eat all you want. Replenish all those calories you burned.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured towards the virtually untouched meal that Mark had so meticulously laid out for them, but no one moved. The chances of Ten eating anything now were close to zero and Taeyong was too close to throwing up to put a single thing anywhere near his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost like they were being held hostage, forced to play happy families with some crazy psycho just because he was wielding a weapon that could potentially end their careers or even their lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to?” the psycho questioned innocently, staring Ten right in the eye from the other side of the banquet that would now undoubtedly go to waste. “But I thought it was your idea? I thought you were hungry from working so hard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Ten was shaking and there were tears in his eyes, too. He was still glaring at the man in front of him with every drop of hatred in his body but his fists were clenched and his teeth were audibly grinding and he was so close to breaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong should be saying something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me help you,” Dongsoo offered, scooping up a leaf of lettuce and stuffing various pieces of meat inside it to make a wrap. He used at least three things that Ten didn’t like but there was no way he cared. “Say ‘ah’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten didn’t move a muscle, resolutely refusing to open his mouth and allow the monster before him to feed him something he’d poisoned with his own touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, do you want soy sauce?” Dongsoo grabbed for the gigantic bottle and gave it a shake. “Wow. Did you really order this much? You must really love the stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside Taeyong, Mark’s breath hitched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say when,” Dongsoo quipped, holding the bottle upside down above the wrap and dousing it in salty brownish fluid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten didn’t say a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow …” Dongsoo repeated as he continued to splash sauce on the now-utterly-ruined hunk of lettuce. “I had no idea you were such a fan of soy sauce, Ten. You still want more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he set the bottle down, thick brown gloop was starting to drizzle through his fingers but the expression on his face was somehow still so harmless. As if he truly believed this was just a perfectly normal lunch among friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he lunged across the various boxes and bags of food, Taeyong actually recoiled in fear, throwing an arm across Mark’s chest and trying to press the two of them into the mirror as though it could swallow them up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dongsoo wasn’t aiming for either of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Ten,” he hissed through gritted teeth, seizing the back of Ten’s head and slamming the soy sauce-soiled wrap into his face. “Eat up. You deserve it, remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten gagged, frantically scrabbling at the hand that covered his mouth and prevented him from spitting the foul concoction out onto the floor. His eyes spilled over, tears gliding down his flushed cheeks as he tried and failed to wriggle free of Dongsoo’s grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop …” Taeyong gasped, burned back forgotten in his desperation to bring an end to this cruel and unusual session of torture. “Stop it. Get off him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crawled over to them on his knees but before he could lay a single finger on Dongsoo, the man relinquished his hold on Ten and sat back to admire his handiwork. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten was audibly sobbing as he turned away from his abuser and hunched in on himself, throat emitting several pitiful retching sounds as his body tried to regurgitate the poison it had been forced to ingest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soy sauce dripped off his nose and his chin and more of it was smeared over his cheek. He tried to swat at it with his sleeves just before his entire figure seemed to shudder with disgust and he promptly threw up on the polished studio floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Revolting,” Dongsoo muttered, climbing to his feet and nudging the poor boy with his toe. “You’ll be cleaning that up later, I can assure you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong just sat on his heels and watched, heartbroken, as Ten wept over the puddle of his own sick. His shoulders were heaving and his breaths were ragged as he tried to retain the air he’d lost when Dongsoo’s hand had been suffocating him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never should have had to go through that. His leader should have protected him. His leader had been the one to fuck up and so his leader should have taken the punishment like a man instead of cowering behind his little brother like a snivelling child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong should have prevented this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dongsoo stooping to retrieve the bottle of soy sauce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you say, Ten?” he crowed, striding over to where the kid was huddled. “You still hungry? That can’t have been enough to replace all those calories you burned. Come on. This is your treat after all. Have some more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Taeyong could stop him, his hand had shot out and fisted itself in Ten’s hair, wrenching the boy’s head back so that he would have no choice but to show him his puffy, sodden face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about a whole bottle?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it!” Taeyong roared, scrambling to his feet so that he was at least almost as tall as Dongsoo himself. “Why are you doing this? What do you get from it? Are you that sadistic that you just enjoy watching people suffer? It was one takeaway, you bastard! One meal! We didn’t do anything wrong! And for your information, I’m the one who ordered it so if you’re going to abuse someone then abuse me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where the words came from, he didn’t know. He just permitted them to flow from his mouth and once they’d started, they refused to stop. All that pent-up anger and frustration and hurt came pouring out and for just a second it felt good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he realised what he’d done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo released Ten and turned to face his newest victim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You call this abuse?” he sneered, holding up the bottle and pointing to it incredulously. “You call </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> abuse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could barely hear him over the sound of his pulse throbbing in his throat. The combination of the fear and the smell of Ten’s vomit stung his eyes and left his stomach churning in protest but he stood his ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t back down now. It would only make things worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d already painted the target on his back and he knew what that was going to mean for him. The only good that was going to come out of it was the fact that, in revealing himself to the enemy, he’d taken the attention off Ten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Dongsoo shrugged, tossing the bottle up in the air and catching it with one hand as he meandered casually forwards. “I get what you’re saying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was weak at the knees, terrified to his bones, but he didn’t allow himself to retreat or to look away. Not even when Dongsoo was right in front of him with his overpowering stench of cheap cologne and foul-smelling breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to be able to eat your food in peace, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a trick. Taeyong had known that already. He was better off not saying anything at all because anything he did say was more likely going to get him into trouble than get him out of it. Whatever was going to happen would happen, regardless of how he tried to defend himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And since you ordered it …” the man purred, and there was that spark of sadistic glee in his eyes once more. “Surely you should get to have the most.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the soy sauce into Taeyong’s chest, “Drink it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong caught the bottle before it could plummet to the ground but the only other thing he was capable of was gawping at Dongsoo in speechless bewilderment. He was holding at least a litre of the stuff and this man expected him to drink it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he stuttered with a shake of his head. “Why would I … No. It’s disgusting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo stepped forwards. Any closer and he would have been standing on Taeyong’s toes. He put his hideous face right up against his artist’s and said with a voice that left absolutely no room for argument, “Either you do or Ten does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he chuckled, as though he’d just thought of something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After he uses his tongue to clean up his own mess of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s eyes flickered instinctively over to Ten. Mark had pulled him away from the vomit and was trying gently to coax him into taking small sips of water while occasionally shooting glances over his shoulder at where his leader faced off with his manager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small sliver of hope that Taeyong had left for humanity wanted him to believe that Dongsoo would never make Ten eat his own sick. Something like that was just too horrible, too inhumane. But he no longer doubted this man’s ability to inflict as much pain as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at the bottle in his hand. One litre. Almost filled to the top. He didn’t hate soy sauce but he wasn’t crazy about it either and that was when it was on his food. The stuff wasn’t meant to be ingested on its own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’d much rather he drink this than watch Ten eat that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, staring right into that filthy man’s face, he popped the cap off and brought the bottle to his lips. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please go support my friend Survivor4Life's new Chenle-centric angst fic :) :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>         The moment he swallowed the first mouthful, Taeyong knew he was going to vomit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few seconds. The mixture sat there on his tongue for a bit, he waited for his taste buds to adjust and, when it didn’t seem to be too bad, he allowed it to slither down his gullet. Then the true power of the aroma hit him full throttle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Salty. Salty and slimy. Those were the only words he could think of to describe it. Salty and slimy and just completely and utterly inedible. Sprinkled over the top of his food, it was fine. On its own, it was the stuff of nightmares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gagged immediately, actually having to clap a hand over his mouth to stop the concoction from reappearing in front of him. His body desperately tried to regurgitate the mud he’d ingested but he forced it back down with a poorly-concealed retch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to look up to know that Dongsoo was smirking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong glanced down at the bottle in his hand. There was so much still in there and he wasn’t sure he could put any more of it in his mouth. The taste hadn’t even begun to dissipate. It was lingering, clinging to his gums and forcing him to relive the experience over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he thought of Ten and raised the container once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So long as he took large gulps, it would be over faster and then he could run home and scrub the residue from his teeth with a bar of soap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes welled up and his throat burned but he didn’t allow his stomach to reject the sustenance he was determined to endure. He knew Dongsoo was watching him but he didn’t meet the man’s gaze. He wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction of seeing his tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One mouthful went down and then another and he tried to go for a third but his body just wasn’t having it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound that dribbled off his tongue was like a strangled, choking grunt. He bent at the waist, bracing one hand against his knee as the other clutched the bottle in a white-knuckled grip no matter how badly he wanted to hurl it at the ground and watch it shatter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screwed his eyes shut. He clenched his jaw. He hoped that would be enough to calm his protesting gut. He glanced down at how much there was left to drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still well over half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do it. It was impossible.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You having trouble?” Dongsoo teased from above him. His voice dripped with amusement. “You’ve barely even started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you doing this?” Ten shouted, his voice still hoarse and soggy from the vomiting and Taeyong wished he could tell him to just shut up. “What good does it do? We’re already fucking terrified of you, what more do you want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was exactly what he did want: for them to be afraid, for his presence to instil fear in the hearts of his artists. That was how people like him slept at night, knowing they had the power and the control to do whatever they wanted and not be punished for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this man would be punished. Taeyong was determined to make it so that he was flung from the company and never saw employment again. As soon as Baekhyun was home and safe, that man’s career was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until then, he just had to endure the torture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Ten could say something that would further incriminate him or Dongsoo could respond to what he’d already said, Taeyong closed his mouth around the bottle’s foul-tasting rim and threw his head back to ingest as much as he possibly could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quicker it was gone, the quicker it was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body, however, seemed to have other ideas. With a disgusting, retching, gagging splutter, he dropped the bottle to the floor and lunged for the trash can. He barely made it before his stomach ejected every last bit of the stuff it could manage to find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain was unbearable. His head was throbbing, he could barely see through the fuzzy white lights, everything was burning, his abdominal muscles were spasming in protest and his throat felt like he’d tried to swallow a cheese grater.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers curled into fists on either side of the trash can as he coughed and choked and tried not to think about the rest of the bottle still sitting on the floor behind him, waiting for his return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give him a minute!” he heard Ten exclaim. He didn’t even need to turn around to know the boy was standing between him and Dongsoo like some kind of human shield. “If you’re going to do this to him, at least give him a minute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong didn’t open his eyes. He was sure that if he did, the world would immediately start spinning and he would instantly throw up again. He could only groan to alert Mark to the fact that he’d heard him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small hand nervously rested against the small of his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to do this,” Mark whispered, too quietly for Dongsoo to have even a chance of hearing. “I’ve … I managed to text Jongin-hyung when he wasn’t looking. I think he’s on his way. We can just hold off until then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except they couldn’t. Dongsoo was already apoplectic with rage and high off the rush that watching others suffer gave him. If Taeyong refused to comply with his ridiculously sadistic games then the violence would surface and he couldn’t risk that while Mark and Ten were in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Film it,” Taeyong rasped, still without opening his eyes or raising his head from where it was half shoved into the trash can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Film. It. If the company see this, they have to do something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t wait for a response. He knew Mark had heard and understood him and there was no point in wasting precious time disputing it. They had wanted proof and this was it: the solidest, most concrete evidence they could’ve found. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs shook violently beneath his weight but he forced them to bear it, just like he was forcing his mind to bear the emotional torture that was being inflicted upon it for absolutely no reason. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a moment to swallow down the urge to return to the trash can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to talk so he simply laid a hand on Ten’s shoulder and guided him out of the way, silently telling him that it was okay to step aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pathetic,” Dongsoo scoffed at the sight of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Taeyong had to admit, he probably did look it. He was sweating in streams, his entire body felt like it was about to cave in on itself, his knees were trembling and his skin had probably never been paler. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo had picked up the bottle to stop it from leaking precious poison all over the floor and he held it out to Taeyong with a sickly smug grin on his sickly smug face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready for seconds?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could sense Ten’s desire to interject even without looking at him. He could only hope and pray and try to communicate through telepathy his need for Ten to just stay where he was and keep quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo arched an eyebrow, “Excuse me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One man should not be able to scare another like this. It shouldn’t be possible. Taeyong was an adult. He was a leader and a hyung, and yet he was quaking like a little kid who knew his father was about to beat the shit out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark had better be filming and he’d better be doing it discreetly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not doing it,” he stated as calmly as he possibly could with the taste of vomit still lingering at the back of his throat and his stomach threatening to explode. “It’s stupid and it makes no sense. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just ordered some food, and I didn’t even get to eat it. You can’t make me do this just because it suits you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark had better be filming. Otherwise he was risking his health and maybe even his dancing career for nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was expecting it but he still couldn’t move quickly enough to dodge the gigantic bottle of soy sauce that was aimed at his head. The base of the container slammed against his temple, there was a distasteful sloshing sound of the liquid inside, and Taeyong hit the floor harder than he thought was possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo had done the job well. He’d struck him on the side of his skull, at a point on his scalp that was concealed by his hair. If it bruised, nobody would notice. Clearly he’d learned from last time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong couldn’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screwed his eyes as tightly shut as they would go, turning his sweat-slicked face into the floor so that Dongsoo wouldn’t be able to see the tears that slowly overflowed from his lids and dripped off the tip of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain like this … It was unbearable. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, his neck was so stiff it felt like just one more movement would break it, his stomach was still curling and uncurling, his throat was made of razor blades and his back … Something warm and wet was trickling down his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The burn had broken open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so sure that he was about to be sick again. The nausea was everywhere, in every part of his body. Even if he opened his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be able to see through the bursting rings of fire that danced on the other side of his closed lids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The side of his head was a mass of agony, pulsating in time with his heartbeat, reminding him with every pump that he’d just been smacked in the skull with a very heavy bludgeon. He could no longer tell whether the urge to vomit was from the soy sauce or the trauma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, his hearing must have cut out, because when it cut back in, there was noise everywhere. Voices. Bellowing. Rage. Footsteps that shook the ground and prompted him to release a silent whimper of distress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only comfort he had was the knowledge that it had all been caught on camera. He could withstand this pain and this sickness so long as he knew it had brought about the end of this nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d done his job. As a hyung, as a leader and as a friend, he’d done his job. He’d protected Ten. He’d protected Mark. He’d protected Baekhyun. What did it matter if he was covered in wounds and bruises and unable to lift a finger without retching into a trashcan? He’d done his job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing left for him here.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> <span>Mark’s text had made absolutely no grammatical sense but as soon as Jongin had retrieved his phone from the floor of the gym room and set eyes on the bunch of mismatched words strung together in an incomprehensible instruction, he knew.</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Studio 3 Dongsoo Taeyong sauce quick</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him maybe five minutes to get there. He didn’t bother taking his stuff, didn’t care that he was still dressed in his work-out clothes and drenched in sweat, didn’t care that he abandoned a very confused Xuxi with no one to spot him on the weights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The studio door had a slim panel of glass fitted in the centre, not quite big enough for anyone to get a good look at what was going on inside but wide enough that Jongin got a perfectly clear view of Taeyong’s body thudding to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t allow himself a moment to think. He wrenched open the door, terrified of what could possibly happen but angrier than he’d felt in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark was on his knees beside his fallen leader, one hand cupping the top of his head and the other resting against his shoulder as he bowed low over the body and tried to rouse it from whatever state it had descended into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten grabbed for the huge bottle in Dongsoo’s grasp, screaming something about calling the police as he tried to wrench it away from the person who wielded it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin was too slow to prevent his manager’s hand from curling a grip around Ten’s neck and tossing him aside as easily as if he were a ragdoll, but he reached his target before any further harm could be done to anybody else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And God did it feel good to punch that man square in the jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d waited too long already. He’d watched him leaving bruises on Taeyong’s face, burns on Taeyong’s back. He’d somehow missed Baekhyun being beaten half to death right under his nose and now finally – </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>– he could get some kind of revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his unceremoniously violent encounter with the floor, Ten scrambled right back up and crawled to where Mark was still crouched over Taeyong, but Jongin didn’t dare take his eyes off the man in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d turned his back enough times already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo drew his hand across his mouth, pulling it away and inspecting the drop of blood that had smudged across the tips of his fingers. He smirked bitterly, working his jaw back into motion as he clambered to his feet and turned to face his assailant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna regret doing that,” he growled, as if it wasn’t obvious how far gone Jongin was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doing what?” he spat, spittle spraying off the tip of his tongue and peppering the monster’s face. “Did I hurt your lip? Bruise your ego? I’m terribly sorry, I was aiming to knock at least one of your teeth out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo’s expression curled into one of feral fury, “Why you little –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started forwards, clearly expecting Jongin to recoil in fear, but Jongin stood his ground. He didn’t even flinch when that machine of muscle was less than two inches away from him. They were almost exactly the same height and something about that seemed to be making this bastard uneasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His two main victims before now – Baekhyun and Taeyong – had both been shorter than him, skinnier than him, physically weaker than him. Now he was faced with somebody who matched his height, stature and strength and he didn’t know what to do with himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?” Jongin whispered, and his voice trembled with rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could actually feel tears of anger pricking the backs of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it is, I’m not just gonna stand here and take it. You want to start throwing punches, give it your best shot. We’ll see who wins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two minutes ago, he’d never once laid a hand on another human being, but now it was different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Make a bear angry and you might lose a couple of fingers. Threaten what belongs to it and you’ve already lost your life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something collided with Jongin’s foot and he chanced a glance downwards to identify what it was. His eyebrows crinkled with confusion and he shot another look at Dongsoo, just to be sure he wasn’t going to try and tackle him, before he bent down and picked it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bottle of brown stuff? Odd. He’d been sure this was the weapon his manager had used on Taeyong just as he was entering the room and so he flipped it over in his palm to read the label.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If human hearts could stop beating from pure shock and horror alone, his would’ve done so at that very moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whipped around and threw himself onto the ground, shoving Ten out of the way so he could get to Taeyong and heave him into his arms. He was still awake but his eyes were unfocused and he kept emitting little groans of pain as Jongin continued to jostle him in his grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taeyong!” he barked, slapping his palm against the boy's cheek. “Taeyong, look at me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong just groaned again, coughing weakly a couple of times and trying to turn his head into Jongin’s chest. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that glistened sickeningly in the studio light, and there were traces of vomit at the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much did he drink?” Jongin demanded, turning his furious gaze on Mark and Ten who exchanged a bewildered glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much did he drink!” Jongin roared, gesturing to the bottle of soy sauce he’d dropped beside him. “I need to know how much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I – It was almost full when he started,” Mark supplied dumbly, and Jongin frantically grabbed for the bottle, holding it upright so he could see just how much was still in there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than a quarter was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief had never been felt so strongly by one person. Jongin could almost have cried if it weren’t for the bubbling cauldron of apoplectic rage that was steadily reaching boiling point beneath the surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get him to drink water,” he muttered distractedly, thrusting Taeyong into Mark’s arms. “Keep trying even if he vomits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood and turned, shoulders heaving with the effort of containing his emotions. Part of him was still numb with shock, refusing to function due to disbelief at what had happened here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were rules. Screw that, there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>history </span>
  </em>
  <span>here and Dongsoo had ignored it? He had to have known. There was no way he would’ve orchestrated this if he hadn’t already known. That action was banned more than half a decade ago but he still would have known. Everybody knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’d done it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re finished,” Jongin breathed, watching the pathetic excuse for a human being before him examining his split lip in the mirror. “If you thought that you could get away with this, you’re the stupidest bastard to ever walk through those doors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo scoffed incredulously, still without turning around, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just a harmless little exercise to teach the brat a lesson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harmless?” Jongin choked, fingernails cutting into his palms from how tightly he was clenching his fists. “You call that harmless? YOU COULD’VE FUCKING KILLED HIM!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screamed it so loudly it felt like the mirrors shook and the windows trembled in their frames. He screamed it so loudly that Mark and Ten both stifled yelps of shock behind him, faltering in their attempts to empty as many water bottles down Taeyong’s throat as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screamed it so loudly it broke the barrier he’d built between himself and his memories and the tears started to leak down his cheeks before he could stop them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo had stopped looking in the mirror now that he seemed to realise just how big a threat the person in front of him could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re being a little overly dramatic there, Kai.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Jongin retched, pointing one trembling finger at Dongsoo’s chest. “Don’t you dare pretend that you don’t know what could’ve happened if you’d made him finish that bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taste was back. It had been seven years and now the taste was back. Slithering down his throat, choking him. Just like the plastic tube. Clinging to the walls of his oesophagus, sucking and sucking and sucking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That could have happened to Taeyong. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, if Mark hadn’t texted him when he had, that could have been Taeyong with the tube and the sucking and the wires in his hands and the taste that took seven years to go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault the boy’s a fucking sissy who can’t even –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin shoved him so hard he hit the mirror with enough force to crack it. A few flecks of blood lathered the broken shards and Dongsoo crashed onto his backside with a wide-eyed gasp of pained astonishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew,” was all Jongin could get out, vision blurred through the tears and voice hoarse from the screaming. “You knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spun on his heel and marched straight over to the others before he could be tempted to grab one of those mirror shards and finish what he’d started because god knew he wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark and Ten were both watching him with apprehensive stares of confusion but he ignored them. He couldn’t deal with their questions and their innocence and the fact that they were far too young to have had to hear that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached down, grabbed one of Taeyong’s wrists and used it to pull the kid’s matchstick arm over his shoulder so he could twist, straighten his legs and heave the bag of bones onto his back. It had always been a wonder to him how Taeyong could be so thin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never wanted them to find out. He’d never wanted anybody to find out. And he hadn’t believed he would ever have to explain to anyone else why he could no longer stand the smell of soy sauce.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>            Jongin stood in the corner of the room, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, arms tightly folded to stop his hands from fidgeting violently enough to pull one of his fingers off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching the doctor prick Taeyong’s finger, take his blood pressure and do various other checks was wearing away at his nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite being barely conscious, Taeyong had resolutely refused to go to a hospital and so Taemin had needed to call in one of his oldest friends – a doctor – for a favour. They’d offered to pay him but after hearing the story, the guy had agreed to do the examination for free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were lucky,” he was saying as he adjusted the IV bag he’d set up above the bed. “This could’ve been really serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin winced at the reminder. He was far too aware of just how serious it could’ve been and the mere thought of what would’ve happened to Taeyong had he not stopped drinking that stuff when he did was enough to bring goosebumps to his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This will take about an hour to transfuse,” the doctor continued, turning back to Taeyong who was just about clinging to consciousness out of manners rather than anything else. “But you’ll need to keep drinking plenty of water to diffuse the concentration of salt in your blood. I also don’t want you getting out of this bed for at least the next three days. That burn needs to heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The displeasure was evident on Taeyong’s features but he seemed too out of it to be able to protest, and he must know he wouldn’t win anyway. Not with Jongin standing guard at the door and Taemin sitting on the edge of his bed like an overprotective mother hen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take these antibiotics four times a day with food and keep checking on the wound to be sure there’s no infection setting in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong nodded, taking the pill bottle he was handed and glancing over the label with hooded eyes. He probably couldn’t even read it properly in his current state. It was clear to see that he was practically begging to drift away and was only waiting for the doctor to leave before he did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, hyung,” Taemin murmured, giving Taeyong’s hand a squeeze as he smiled gratefully at his friend. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to get here when you’re not on the clock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor let out a long sigh, glancing over his patient and smirking slightly at the sight of Taeyong’s eyelids drooping threateningly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to do something about that manager, Taemin,” he said at last. “If this continues, one of you is going to end up dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing Jongin heard before he slipped out of the room was Taemin’s soft huff of, “I know.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he emerged into the living room, everybody was on their feet, asking various questions and demanding to know various facts and talking over each other and all Jongin could do was stand there and wait for them to shut up so he could give them what they wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s going to be fine,” he told them once they seemed to have realised he wasn’t going to speak until they were silent. “He’s bedbound for the next few days so his back can heal and we have to be careful he doesn’t contract any infections but he’ll live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor choice of wording. Two hours ago, when he’d first read that label and realised what Dongsoo had made Taeyong do, he hadn’t been sure whether or not the kid would make it to see the following day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung,” Mark started, and Jongin already knew where this was going. “What exactly happened? I mean … It was horrible and I know he was basically torturing him but it was just soy sauce? Why did … Why did you get so angry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin looked at them. Mark. Ten. Xuxi. The three youngest. The three he should have protected above all else. Them and Taeyong. God, he’d let Taeyong go through all of that, endure abuse and manipulation and psychological torture, and he’d done nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the hyung. With Baekhyun temporarily out of action, he might as well have been the eldest, or at least one of them. So why had he allowed Taeyong to take the fall, withstand the punishments, get the bruises and the burns?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong was strong. Stronger than anyone would ever give him credit for. Stronger than the fragility of his body made him look. But nobody was strong enough to take beating after beating without needing somebody to step in and protect them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin should have been that somebody and he’d failed miserably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve to keep his privacy and protect his dignity when all of this could have been prevented if he’d just confronted Dongsoo while he’d had the chance. If these kids wanted to know the reason behind his fury-triggered breakdown, he owed it to them to spill the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing over his shoulder to be sure that neither Taemin nor his doctor friend would be leaving the room anytime soon, he sank down onto the sofa and raked his fingers through his hair. This would be the first time he’d tell this story.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven years ago,” he started, fixing his gaze on a stain on the carpet just in front of his foot so that he wouldn’t have to see the reactions that were going to take place. “We had a psycho for a manager. Like Dongsoo but a lot more into inflicting psychological pain than physical. He wouldn’t hit us that hard but he’d play mind games and …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was starting to get that butterfly sensation in his stomach. Even the thought of the things that man had made them do, the suffering he’d watched his hyungs undergo in an attempt to keep him as far from harm as possible, was bringing back all that fear and self-hatred and shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It used to be this thing with SM managers,” he continued deftly. “They probably came up with it at some kind of social gathering, but suddenly they were all doing it. And when he decided we’d screwed up badly enough, he would … erm … he would …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost a decade ago. Why was it still so hard to talk about?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he was really angry, he’d make whoever he was maddest at stand up in front of the others and drink a bottle of soy sauce. They were only little ones, not nearly as big as the one that Taeyong …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered at the thought before shaking himself and ploughing on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was public humiliation more than anything else. We’d keep puking but we weren’t allowed to stop until the bottle was empty and then we’d have to clean it up and the others were banned from helping or saying a single word during the whole thing. It was a way of teaching us that we couldn’t protect each other even if we wanted to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were all completely silent and that helped. It made it easier for him to imagine that they weren’t there and he was just spewing his story to some unknown deity or a blank wall in front of him as a form of self-therapy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But then I screwed up.” His voice cracked. “I screwed up really fucking bad and he … he was so angry. The others weren’t there but he started making me drink anyway and I’d already had to do it a couple of days before so I was a mess. I begged him, I started crying, I … I was nineteen. I was scared out of my mind and he just kept making me drink no matter how many times I threw up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up to swipe at the tears that had started to spring free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I finished the bottle but he was so mad that he gave me another one and then another after that and he just wouldn’t let me stop. I tried refusing but he got on top of me, pinched my nose and just poured it over my face. I have no idea how much I actually ended up swallowing but the last thing I remember was the pain. It … I’ve never felt anything like it since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since he’d started speaking, he looked up. The three of them were staring back at him, slack-jawed and completely stunned. The sight of them brought a bitter smirk to his face. They were lucky not to have been around long enough to remember what things used to be like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the rules, before the laws, before the hospital trips and the threatened law suits and the ventilators in the intensive care unit. Minho hadn’t been the only one who was once rushed out of the building on a stretcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Junmyeon-hyung found me. From what he told me, by the time I got to the hospital, I wasn’t responding to stimuli, my muscles were locked so tightly that all my veins were popping out and the doctors were convinced I was about to have a seizure. See, what my manager didn’t know was that soy sauce is about 80% salt. You give somebody that much and you’re filling their blood with enough sodium to kill them within a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just thankful it was him and not one of his members. He still wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle it if he’d seen Sehun or Kyungsoo lying on a gurney while a bunch of frantic doctors stuffed tubes down their throats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spent ten days in the ICU, another twelve on a ward. The manager was fired after Junmyeon-hyung threatened to report him for attempted murder and the company decided that losing one employee was less hassle than having to deal with a lawsuit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still sickened him to think about. Even now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since then, those kinds of punishments have been banned. The fact that Dongsoo did it to Taeyong … I don’t know what he was trying to do exactly or whether he was aware of what happened to me but the company won’t stand for it. Seven years ago, I almost died, and I’ll bet there were others before me. They won’t be willing to risk that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never would’ve thought that the excruciating pain and paralysing terror he’d felt back then would ultimately result in something good. He could have so easily lost his life but because of that, the company wouldn’t dare tolerate Dongsoo’s behaviour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing they could do now was wait for a meeting to be scheduled and pray that their twisted psycho of a manager wouldn’t be able to lie and cheat his way out of a termination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I filmed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin’s head snapped up.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I filmed it,” Mark repeated, procuring his phone from his pocket and holding it out. “Taeyong-hyung told me to. I only got about two minutes or so but it should be enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin couldn’t believe it. Taeyong had managed to be that coherent when he was in that much distress? He was essentially being tortured and yet his first priority had been to collect proof, gather evidence, ensure that nobody else could receive the same treatment that he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when Jongin thought that kid couldn’t amaze him anymore, he figured out a way to do just that. The industry had never seen a leader like Lee Taeyong. He was built for it, born for it and he could’ve even died for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin took the phone and pressed play.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quality wasn’t particularly clear but Mark had been filming in secret so he couldn’t exactly be blamed for the distorted image, blurry shapes and the occasional appearance of a finger covering the camera. The audio was there and that was all they needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pathetic.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Already, his anger was flaring as he watched Taeyong struggle to remain vertical while Ten hovered nervously to the side and Dongsoo watched with an expression of thorough enjoyment. He presented the bottle in a way that just proved how sadistic he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ready for seconds?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all too familiar. It was almost exactly how Jongin remembered it being for him. Except he hadn’t been that strong or that resilient or that determined to antagonise the devil just so he could be certain his members would be safe in the future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Taeyong hadn’t known just how dangerous the bear he was poking could be but, whether unintentionally or not, he’d risked his life for the rest of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin was getting anxious just watching the recording of it even though he knew Taeyong was safe and recovering in the other room.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not doing it. It’s stupid and it makes no sense. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just ordered some food, and I didn’t even get to eat it. You can’t make me do this just because it suits you.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin turned the phone off before he could watch his little brother being struck over the head. Mark had captured just enough of the incident for it to incriminate Dongsoo. There would be no explaining his actions and no defending himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had done everything right.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>---------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> <span>Taeyong couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper rest. Maybe not since they’d called the ambulance for Baekhyun. From that moment on, he’d either been too worried or in too much pain to actually close his eyes and sleep as much as somebody like him needed to.</span></p><p>
  <span>Now, though, he was living the dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d emptied his stomach completely and utterly and all traces of soy sauce had been flushed from his system so he no longer felt the need to hunch over the toilet bowl until he coughed up a lung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin had also given him a tin of mints so he could get the taste out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taemin’s doctor friend had properly dressed his back, meaning that the material of his T-Shirt was no longer grating against the raw weeping wound and he could actually lie flat without feeling like he was on fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been pumped full of pain killers. He felt nothing but comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blankets were soft, the pillows were so plump it felt like they were hugging his skull but, of course, the best part of his current position was the fact that he had Taemin in the bed beside him, sitting up against the headboard with his fingers combing absently through Taeyong’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling of nails on his scalp shouldn’t be so fucking good but that’s exactly what it was. After so much pain, discomfort, stress and throwing his guts up, he could finally close his eyes and allow himself to drift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing else mattered in this moment. He couldn’t even remember what had led him to be so sick in the first place but he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to stay like this forever without having to move a muscle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice was muffled from the other side of the door and distorted by the miles and miles of space that stood between Taeyong and full consciousness. He felt Taemin’s fingers freeze and then vanish and he almost whined in protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see him! Where is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pried his crusted eyelids apart just in time to see Taemin opening the door and getting practically bowled over by a very flustered and very frenzied Byun Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere in the depths of Taeyong’s rationale, he knew that his hyung was due to be discharged from the hospital but he was still too out of it to process how or why the boy had suddenly showed up in his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyu –” he started feebly, but he never got the chance to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoving Taemin out of his way, Baekhyun threw himself onto the bed and wrestled Taeyong against his chest. He kept one arm hooked around the back of his neck and the other holding just one of his shoulders so he didn’t actually touch the burn but Taeyong was drugged anyway so it wouldn’t have mattered even if he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you not to make him mad,” Baekhyun hissed in his ear as he stroked the back of the younger boy’s head. “I told you to be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drew back, keeping Taeyong’s neck supported with his arm as he surveyed him and every single one of the bruises that flushed his pallor. Taeyong was aware he should probably say something but the only thing he could bring himself to do was smile sleepily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun-hyung was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with him?” Baekhyun asked, panicked, as he glanced over at Taemin. “Did he hit his head? Have you had him checked for a concussion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine,” Taemin murmured softly. “Just high on painkillers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun heaved a sigh of relief before ever so gently lowering Taeyong back down onto the pillows. He was so floppy. Like lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was lead floppy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know. He was tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did good, Yongie,” came the whisper from above as more fingers brushed streaks over his scalp. “You’ve been a better leader in the last six days than I have in the last six months. I’m sorry I kept my mouth shut. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to do anything about it. Thank you for keeping them safe when I couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong told his mouth to open so he could say something that would hopefully correct Baekhyun’s completely twisted viewpoint on this whole situation but his body still wasn’t responding to his commands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, for him, Taemin wasn’t having any of their leader’s bullshit either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, that’s all crap and you know it. You did nothing –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Baekhyun cut him off harshly, without taking his eyes off Taeyong’s face or removing his hand from Taeyong’s hair. “I did nothing. If I’d said something the first time he hit me, then none of this would’ve happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t strictly true, was it? Sure, if he hadn’t stayed silent for so long then the rest of them would have known sooner but that wouldn’t have necessarily prevented the abuse that had befallen them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only reason that there was even a possibility of getting Dongsoo sacked now was because of the proof they’d gathered from a hospital visit, an operation, a private doctor’s opinion, photographs and actual video evidence. If they didn’t have any of that, they wouldn’t stand a chance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the eldest,” Baekhyun continued, and now the tremor in his voice was evident. “I should’ve done something. This should be me right now. Not him. I’m the fucking eldest and yet he’s sacrificed more for this group than I ever will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung …” Taeyong finally managed to force out through a mouthful of cotton wool and a tongue made of marshmallow. His head was so foggy. “Doesn’t matter. ‘s over now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had everything they needed. In just a few short days, once he was allowed to get back on his feet, they would all go to the CEO together and present him with the evidence they’d risked their health to gather. If anyone tried to cover it up, they would threaten to release it on social media and let the fanbase do the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They won. Despite Dongsoo’s constant self-proclamation of power and control, they’d won. Baekhyun’s surgical scar, Taeyong’s burns, Jongin’s post-traumatic stress. They were painful beyond imagination but they’d all played a part in this victory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What good was guilt and blame now? They’d survived this by watching out for each other so why fall apart now when the hardest bit was done? It was pointless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun should be able to see that, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long, long pause in which nobody said anything. Taeyong gazed up at his leader, too weak to do much else than turn the corners of his lips up and hope that Baekhyun could feel the warmth and the comfort behind his sort-of-half-smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” the eldest whispered at last, forcing a soft curve of acceptance across his face. “Okay, Tyong. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, that was the best they could have asked for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three days later, they reported Dongsoo to the CEO. It had been difficult to convince Jongin not to go and do it by himself immediately after the soy sauce incident but Taeyong had finally managed to get him to understand that they all needed to be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The management team were, to say the least, unhappy. The bruises on Taeyong’s face and neck were still there, faded but visible, and the video was about as damning as it got. The suits were pushed into a corner and there was no way of getting out without terminating a contract or facing a lawsuit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dongsoo was called in, Tayeong looped his fingers with Baekhyun’s and held tight. Neither was sure which of them was more afraid, but their voices were steady when they spoke and their testaments were clear as they recounted their experiences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo’s defences were fairly typical, “It was just minor discipline”, “I never actually caused any of those bruises. They just tripped up”, “I had no idea the soy sauce thing was dangerous”, “he shouldn’t have provoked me like that”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was furious, knuckles cracking throughout his frenzied excuse-making, flashing eyes repeatedly boring into the idols who stood in a line by the wall, telling them without words that they were in for a world of pain as soon as he got them alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then they fired him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had no choice. They knew that if they didn’t, their artists would revolt. Taemin indirectly threatened to expose their corrupt hiring techniques to the world of social media and then it was game over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongsoo was told to collect his things and leave the building by the end of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The war of maltreatment in the Korean music industry was still going strong. It had been decades in the making and so it would take years to strip down to its foundations before anybody could start building a better system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this hadn’t been a war. It had simply been a battle. It seemed inordinately small in comparison to the issues that still presented themselves at every twist and turn but it was something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong understood just how useless that something was in the grand scheme of things when he learned that 127’s manager had smacked Yuta around the face so hard that his lip had split, but only one fight could be fought at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he would always fight for his friends.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's it! Thank you TYisLit for the request. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you, everyone, for reading and leaving comments. Stay safe, stay happy and I'll see you on the next story :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos really help with my motivation and confidence so, if you have a spare minute, let me know what you think. Have a great day and stay safe!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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